Phaeton
by Zoser
Summary: A mission to secure vital elements goes awry. This story occurs in Season 6 sometime after Allegiance and before The Changeling. There is some vulgarity, blame it on Jack. There are brief thoughts of depression and suicide, and of course a measure of violence. Jack/Sam UST
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Phaeton  
**Fandom:** Stargate SG-1  
**Pairing: **Sam/Jack  
**Genre: **Sci-fi, adventure, some hurt/comfort  
**Season:** Story occurs in late season 6**  
**

**A/N: **This story was written in fits and starts over the past 5 years. I miss Stargate so I dream.

_And I find it kind of funny,_

_I find it kind of sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying_

_Are the best I've ever had._

_ Gary Jules – Mad World_

**Chapter 1**

**Prologue**

The sun was setting in the west, a magnificent sight to see on this god forsaken rock. Ben sat on a bench in the kitchen yard among the chickens. Presently in the temple, as was done every dawn and dusk, one of the priests was making an offering of a dove to Helios. The screech of a falcon could be heard waiting to take the sacrifice from the altar, bolt into the sky and bring it, supposedly, to the god; it was also doing a good job of terrifying the chickens.

In barely two weeks the festival would be here, when the day and night were equal, when the sky would glow with so many stars that they could not be distinguished one from another, when the poor souls, whose meals he was preparing, would be sacrificed to the rising sun, to Phaeton himself, the god of this world. In all truth the sacrifices would be made to Helios but Phaeton, his loyal and loving son would graciously accept them. Many years ago Phaeton, faithful to his Goa'uld heritage, sent his beloved father to dwell among the stars by cut dear old dad's throat clean through to the backbone, severing his symbiote. Phaeton then had claimed his father's throne, assuming the mantel of godhood.

Ben wondered if his depression was now such a natural state that he would not recognize joy if it bit him in the ass. He spent a lot of his time thinking about killing himself, but certainly not the way these poor men would meet their end, a gruesome spilling of blood and guts as the priest sought to ascertain the future. It had been years and no one had come for him. What happened to no man left behind? Most probably no one knew where he was, no one knew what had happen to them. Had they replaced them? Was a new SG-11 explored the galaxy? If so why the hell didn't they explored here?

He took a deep breath to calm himself. It was never a good thing here to stick out of the crowd. To be noticed by the Goa'uld or his Jaffa most often made you the next in line to be sacrificed to the great god. Ben had sacrificed enough. The rest of his team were dead; he saw it happen, he alone knew. And he would be lying in a shallow grave with them if one of the Jaffa hadn't needed a beast of burden. The Jaffa knew Apophis was dead and sought to feather his nest. So the Jaffa stole whatever he and his new slave could carry and escaped that world, abandoning, to their own devices, the boys playing war games. The Jaffa made a home for himself here and all it cost him was one slave. Ben never saw him again. He thought about this as he ran his finger over the knife he was paring the vegetables with.

The chief cook poked him. "Stop dawdling, the turnips will not peel themselves."

The cook was a good man; the slaves that worked for him were fed well. And although he did not tolerate the lazy or incompetent, he was not cruel or overbearing. Every day he faced the sunrise and sunset and bowed his head but that was the totality of his religiosity, that and providing the best he and his staff were capable of for Phaeton's enjoyment. This also allows him to keep his position and his head. Presently he was organizing the dishes for the coming festival and making a list for the Jaffa who would hunt in the countryside for the delicacies that would grace the god Phaeton's table. The kitchens had the finest produce and meats, all given as tribute or sacrifice to the god. And if not freely given easily procured by the well armed Jaffa.

Ben sipped from the mug of ale and put it down again at his feet and picked up his knife. The ale was excellent. In some of Ben's more manic moods with the aid of a few mugfuls of that excellent ale he envisioned escaping back to Earth with the brewmeister and opening a microbrewery in Colorado Springs. He'd have a ready made clientele – all of the SGC. He pealed another turnip.

Ben thought about the old woman, the first person on this planet to speak to him. She told the Jaffa his fortune and told him he must give his slave to the service of Phaeton in return for the prophecy of a good life and good fortune to come true. And then she demanded to speak privately to his slave. She told Ben that he would see his home again, that he had a destiny and that he sat on the razor edge of fate. What a load of bullshit. It had kept him sane, sort of sane anyway. It had been so long ago, so very long; it had been years. But now he kept thinking he needed to sharpen his knife. He would like to kill that Jaffa first, not the old cook, he had been rather kind to him.

At night when he tried to sleep he could still hear the cries of his team members as they were tortured for information. His throat constricted remembering his own screams. No, he'd kill himself after he killed the Jaffa. Wasn't it sweet to have something to live for. Oh, yes, and prepare a decent meal for the poor bastards in the prison. One last good meal and then they could stop wondering if anyone remembered or cared about them. They would be sent to dwell with Helios among the stars.


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm never alone._  
_I'm alone all the time._

_Gavin Rossdale " Glycerine"_

**Chapter 2**

**Morning On Jack's Back Deck**

"What a beautiful planet this is!" Jack thought as he sat out on his back deck sipping a steaming cup of coffee. It was a magnificent June morning. The night had been cool but the morning's sun brought warmth as it dappled the myriad shades of green in his back yard. And from these green trees and shrubbery the fluttering and the song of birds filled the air.

For once Jack wasn't in a hurry to get to work. He needed to sit here and absorb the beauty and tranquility around him. He needed to steep himself in that which he valued, what he worked for, what he fought and bled for. On their recent missions they had been on one rat hole after another. Some of the planets were desolate due to cosmic events, some destroyed by environmental devastation so that all traces of life were destroyed, some were inhabited by the dregs of the galaxy and one made waste by the Goa'uld. And one, well Jack didn't want to think about that, where his soul spilled out with his life's blood day after day to Ba'al's delight. Absentmindedly Jack rubbed at the center of his chest always expecting his fingers to find a scar or a gaping hole.

Jack needed to recharge, needed a reason to go on. Occasionally he thought about retiring and going to Minnesota to hide his head in the sand, but that cliché was better done on a Tok'ra planet. Beside it wasn't in his nature. Recharge so you don't burn out, but a warrior was his nature and a warrior he would remain.

He let his thoughts stray to the future, to a time when he could not remain in the field. What then? Retire, be put out to pasture or kicked upstairs to fly a desk? Better to buy the farm in the field – okay that was an agricultural linguistic mess! He could not see his future and was so damned tired of being alone. Maybe he should get a dog.

As he looked into the yard he saw fledglings and thought of his team. It was probably time, it was probably long past time for them to go on their own. They were incredible together but each leading their own team...They could take on all comers. But he wouldn't be there to watch their backs. He hadn't done such a fine job watching Daniel's. Maybe before his time was up he could help fashion their futures.

Carter, oh the beautiful, brainy Carter, he saw her safe in her lab working on the piles of crap each team dragged home after every mission.

Daniel's skills were better used to understand other cultures and making allies rather than serving as an intergalactic target. Jack wondered if that's what Daniel was doing now in his ascended state. Could you actually die if you were ascended? Actually Jack thought that ascension was grade A bullshit but it was Daniel's choice.

And Teal'c...Teal'c's dream was almost actualized. Jack saw him as more of a warrior than a politician but Teal'c would have to find his own way as the founding father of the Jaffa nation.

Then, of course, there was Jonas but he seemed ecstatic just to eat a banana while watching the weather channel. He was a valuable member of SG-1 although Jack was sure he probably never told Jonas that. As it stood he certainly couldn't go back to his home planet. Those fools were the poorer for his loss. He would probably be retained at the SGC as an excellent resource and researcher and continue doing field work if he so chose.

They, his team, could be safe and happy and then none of them would really needed him anymore. And he could move on... to what?

He threw out the dregs of the now cold coffee onto the lawn. Enough brooding for one day. Time to get to work, maybe even do something productive.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Daniel's Old Lab**

Jonas Quinn searched around the drawers without luck, finally he unfurled a cloth bound set of Daniel Jackson's tools procuring a magnifying glass to study the delicate parchment secured between two plates of glass. He smiled up from his work when the other resident alien of SG-1 strolled into his lab.

"Good morning, Jonas Quinn."

" Hey Teal'c, perfect timing. Look at this." he said as he handed Teal'c the lens indicating a spot in the document. "Does any of this ring a bell?"

"What would the signature of a planet and the sounding of a gong have to do with on another."

Jonas looked a bit confused but broke into a big smile and replied, " You're putting me on right?"

Before Teal'c could answer Samantha Carter join her team members. Adding to Teal'c mischief she said, "Didn't you just watch the PBS special on the music of the spheres, Teal'c?"

Now worried that he had confused the issue by his misuse of a Tau'ri idiom Jonas said, " Yes, I know there are natural harmonics in the universe. Don't some of your top scientists posit a vibration of the most elemental particles in String theory but that's not what I meant. I was …"

That unfortunately sparked Sam to continue on the wrong tangent. "Actually there is an M Theory superseding or encompassing String Theory. The M stands for membrane or matrix."

" Or Magic or murky." Quelling the physic lecture Colonel O'Neill sauntered into the room. The SG-1 contingent was now complete.

"It's too early in the morning for that..." O'Neill waved his hands around. He picked up the magnifying glass focusing the light from the desk lamp into a sharp beam attempting to ignite the ancient document.

" What's up?"

" Good morning O'Neill. I believe Jonas Quinn was asking about the ringing of a bell."

"Not quite." Jonas jumped in. "Colonel, SG-10 brought back these fragment of a scroll a few days ago. It's so fragile it crumbles to dust when it's handled so I've placed it between two pieces of glass and although it's mostly faint and undecipherable, there is writing and it's in Goa'uld and what I believe is liner A. The text refers to two great lords and I believe they are Helios and Phaeton who in Greek mythology are a sun god and his son. There is also a cartouche with a gate address."

"Well I, for one, would stay away. Don't we have enough on our plate?"

"If I've got this right, it's call...ah...Ka'Risa."

Teal'c looking up thoughtful.

"I have heard mention of this world. It is sacred to the Goa'uld. It has been occasionally fought over since it is exceedingly rich in mineral valuable to the Goa'uld. But it is also far from the usual territories of the System Lords and the distance requires many many months of travel by ship. It is said to be the Omphalos – the center - the navel of the universe."

" If I remember correctly according to Doctor Jackson's books 'Omphalos' was a sacred stone of myth. There actually are a lot of stones regarded as an 'Omphalos'." Jonas remarked

Jack looked incredulous "Belly buttons?"

Sam looked at the gate address the Jonas was printing in his note book and looked up wide eyed. "This seem like a very bizarre coincidence but last week those coordinates turned up on our cold hit program."

" We're still doing that?"

"Well, yes sir, when we have time. We sent a MALP to our latest hit and that's the subject of this mornings briefing."

" Speaking of which, we've got 15 minutes, campers."

**Briefing Room**

Major Doctor Samantha Carter was in full lecture mode. "As you know we live in one of the outer arms of a barred spiral galaxy. We surmise that this planet designated PB3-789 is probably close to the Galactic core."

O'Neill glanced up at her with a wary look on his face.

"Sir, you are well aware of what that means."

Jack did know and answered her "It's either very dark at night or very bright." All the while thinking of Henry Boyd and his team running for a gate they could never reach.

"Yes, Sir. As far as we know a super-massive black hole is in the center of the galaxy. And either this planet is dangerously close to the black hole or farther away in the barred region rich in massive stars. At least it is not an active galactic nuclei."

Hammond queried with "Major?"

"It's not a quasar, Sir, less of a chance of being subjected to gamma radiation and X-rays."

Jack leaned his elbow on the table, ground his thumb against his temple and rubbed his forehead with his fingers as if to rub away an impending headache. "Does a mission there make any sense?"

Jonas wondered aloud " Can't we figure out how close, that is , how dangerous this is? Don't you have telescopes in orbit above your planet?"

Teal's said "It has a Stargate, Major Carter. What does all this matter?"

" Even if we could distinguish the star this planet orbits for the millions there are in that area, it is roughly near or in the accretion disk of this super massive black hole which is about 27 thousand light years away." Carter said

Sam continued "If we could see it, that's where and what it was roughly 27 thousand years ago – who knows where it is or in what shape it is in now? But, of course, we can't see it because of the dust clouds between here and there."

Jonas looked thoughtful and asked "If we had no problem shutting down the wormhole when you sent the M.A.L.P. through because of gravitational waves...never mind wrong direction."

Jack squinted up at her and asked "So we..."

Carter cut through all the interruptions. "Well, Sir, I had an idea. We have been working on a gravity sensor but it's not yet field operational." Before the colonel could voice his next objection Sam continued "However, we can look at the clock on the M.A.L.P. and see if it remains synchronized with those here on Earth. If so we can surmised it is located in the Circumnuclear Disk, that is, we would be assured it isn't too close to feel the affects of the black hole."

All at the table turned to her with the same quizzical expression.

"The intense gravity of a black hole causes time to slow down."

"Yeah" O'Neill said with a wince "I remember. Carter, how sure can you be with your clock experiment?"

" Pretty sure sir."

Jack muttered to himself 'Pretty sure!' And to Carter he asked, " Timex?"

"Atomic clocks, Sir. ."

"Okay so now we know about where PB whatever is and how to judge if we about to get sucked into a black hole but can someone tell me why."

General Hammond motioned to an airman, the lights dimmed and a picture formed on the screen in front of the closed blast shield. Major Carter rose to describe the scene they were viewing. "This is what I was trying to present before all the questions. This is the footage from the M.A.L.P.."

O'Neill's eyebrows rose. "Pretty bad reception and who's that and what is she doing to the M.A.L.P. ?"

"I believe one of the natives is placing a garland on it, partially obscuring the lens of the camera." Teal'c replied.

"Friendly gesture." O'Neill said.

"We believe so, sir."

Cutting Carter off again O'Neill added "But the real question is, is there a resident Goa'uld and his merry Jaffa?"

Somewhat exasperated Sam continued. "We sent a UVA and although it's flight was curtailed..."

O'Neill interrupted again "Shot down?"

"No sir, malfunctioned. Where was I...we've detected abundant life, human and otherwise but no Jaffa have come into view. With some of our latest instruments on board the UVA we have detected that this planet is rich in some of the minerals we need in our war against the Goa'uld, specifically for the completion of the fleet of X-302's and 303's. And again we believe the interference with the success of the UVA was due to the massive amounts of these heavy metals not radiation."

Hammond digested the information and simple asked "Trinium and naquadah?"

"Yes, Sir.", the major replied. "We believe this solar system is third generation."

Again a lot of blank faces looked at her.

"Massive amounts of heavy elements" she said with a smile.

"This is apparently a first contact mission, and one for procurement of essential minerals. You have a go SG-1 at 0900 tomorrow." And added "You are dismissed." as he rose from his seat.

As they exited the briefing room Jack turned to Teal'c and asked "Do you think when we get there we'll all get lei-ed?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

O'Neill was the first geared up and in the armory checking out the weapons and extra ammunition they would need for this mission. He dutifully inspected the P-90 and semi-automatic side arm which he kept in pristine condition and ran his thumb along the razor sharp edge of the K-bar. Arming himself he felt a twinge in his chest which he absentmindedly rubbed. As he slid the blade home in it's scabbard he thought if he ever came across Ba'al or any Goa'uld for that matter he would happily kill them. For Ba'al he could think of very creative ways to do it. He could feel himself getting agitated as the tightness in his chest increased.

He had seen a therapist to deal with the aftermath of Ba'al. It hadn't been his idea. But if he hadn't he would probably be sitting behind a desk – if he were lucky. So he took a deep breath, thought a few relaxing thoughts, which he thought was a crock of shit, and got his mind back on this mission, playing with the flower people on the planet and searching for minerals. His team soon joined him and when everyone was suitably armed they proceeded to the Gate room, all in an amiable mood.

As the M.A.L.P. had indicated SG-1 emerged from the Stargate at the base of a mountain onto a plaza, some 35 – 40 feet in diameter. It was lined with columns and to the left side a small shrine lit with fragrant oil lamps and a scattering of offerings of flowers and fruit.

The young woman who tended the altar, as did her mother before her, bowed deeply to strangers. They came through the chappa'ai just as the sun rose. When the mysterious blue waters receded there they stood with the rays of the heavenly god shining upon their backs blessing them, wreathing their heads with a sacred light, blinding her with it radiance. She fell to her knees for these must be gods themselves. The very thing she had waited for all her life now frightened her to death.

When O'Neill simply spoke to her she cringed lower, she was unworthy to have a god speak to her and she was terrified, her forehead was pressed to the cobblestones at his feet. All other attempts to communicate with her were met with her sobbing and cowering. O'Neill's shadow fell over the girl and as he reached out to lift her from the ground she entreated him in a very familiar phrase.

"Kyrie" she pleaded "Kyrie, eleison." - Lord, have mercy. She feared he found her unworthy and would strike her dead.

He reached out for the trembling girl again and said gruffly "We are not gods."

The young woman didn't seem to understand him but his harsh tone had her repeat her request for mercy as she scrabbled back to the safety of the altar of her god.

Jonas looked at Colonel O'Neill and raised his eyebrows as if to request a try at talking to the young woman.

"Have at it." O'Neill said. He turned to Carter and told her to send back the M.A.L.P. and report to the SGC of their arrival.

Sam's blood hummed with the song of the naquadah. She thought at first it was just her proximity to the Stargate, then let her eyes flick back to the young woman. No, she was too subservient to be a Goa'uld. Perhaps the stones the temple was build with were laced with the element.

"Carter, the M.A.L.P." An impatient order pierced her thoughts.

Sam clicked on her radio and heard static. The men all turned to look at her and simultaneously clicked on theirs as well.

"Sir, I think our communications will be compromised due to the... "

"Yeah, yeah. Let Hammond know and tell him due to the terrain it will be probably 4 days to a week before we have the drone back to the gate and can check in again."

"Yes, Sir."

Peeking around the altar the priestess's eyes were wide with wonder as the gate opened and the mechanical beast festooned with flowers trundled through the wormhole.

Jonas drew closer to the side of the altar and squatted down.

"Kyrios?" she said questioningly.

"We are peaceful explorers. We only want to be friends with your people."

"Have you come to pay homage to our great lord and to visit his oracle?"

"Is this what visitors do here?"

"Not many come through the chappa'ai. But all that do first go to the oracle."

"How can we find her?"

"It is the only way the path leads."

O'Neill looked a tad skeptical, quirked his head and said "I guess then we're off to see the wizard."

They left the frighten young woman and took the wide path, the only path, that led away from the plaza curving through a meadow and up the hillside.

After the third switch back, not a quarter of the way up on the soft slopes of the mountain there was a glade with a spring and a pond of at least an acre with laurel trees gracing its banks. There young women were helping a pilgrim with her ritual ablutions.

"Looks serene." Sam said.

"Wonder if there are any fish?" O'Neill replied.

The breeze shifted and they caught a whiff of the sulfurous waters.

"Why would anyone take a bath in that?" Jack said as he whisked off his cap and fanned his face.

"I'd like to take a sample, sir. It may have a medicinal qualities."

"If it smells bad it got to be good?"

Beyond the pond the road, although well kept, became steeper and the mountainside a tumble of jagged boulders. More then a click further up the road there was another shrine complete with garlands of flowers, offerings of trinkets and a brazier of smoking incense. Beyond the shrine nestled in the craggy side of the mountain lay a shallow cavern over a fissure. Young women were in attendance of an old hunched figure, an ancient woman slumped over in a sling like affair directly over the smoking pit. The old woman appeared to be either asleep or unconscious. Foul smelling fumes issuing from fissure. These fumes mixed with incense burning on the altar of the temple to create a strange heady aroma.

Over the front of the small temple there were carvings but the acrid fumes and weather had eroded away most of it. Only the design of entwined Goa'uld symbiotes and the words **Gnothi Seauton*** were legible.

"Good god! This is worse than the pond. It smells like something, or dare I say someone, is rotting."

"I think this is a volcanic vent Colonel" Sam could feel the hum in her blood almost drowning out most all other sensations. Pure naquadah had oozed out of the vent from the core of the planet sometime in the distant past.

"So, Carter, are you saying this is dangerous. Do we need to get..." O'Neill looked at her and was somewhat worried at what he saw. She was flush and a little glassy eyed. Before he could ask her what was wrong Jonas interrupted.

"Colonel, we can't leave. Don't you see, this is the Oracle." Jonas was totally amazed seeing before his eyes something he had read about not a week before.

"Have you come to worship at the god Helios' shrine and approach the Oracle?" One of the young women addressed the members of SG-1.

"Helios is a false god, and deserves no ones worship." Teal'c spoke out vehemently.

The ancient one's head slowly rose to stare at these newcomers.

"Don't you all live lives of illusion." the old woman spoke with a strong steady voice.

"Why do you vile infidels come before me? Do you dare to seek the truth?"

"Oh brother" O'Neill muttered under his breath.

"Colonel O'Neill, this is incredible. We need to ..." Jonas displayed the enthusiasm of a young Daniel Jackson.

"You've got 15 minutes. Don't worry we'll be back – too much naquadah and no Goa'ulds." Jack thought about his last statement and hope it was true. O'Neill turned to one of the priestesses and asked if Helios ruled here and if so where could he be found. She looked at him as though he was a total idiot and pointed toward the sun, bowed low to it and said "My lord Helios, the all-seeing". O'Neill glared at the woman but felt better knowing the Goa'uld was up there not down here.

Turning to the old woman Jonas said "Yes, we seek the truth."

The aged Seer inhaled the sacred fumes emanating from the fissure; her eyes rolled back as she turned toward SG-1.

She looked over the strangers before her with her milky eyes and pointed a bony finger at Jonas and looking at Jack she asked "Who is this?" Without waiting for an answer she berated Jonas saying "You abandon your world to ingratiate yourself with such as these? Witless fool, you will lead the gods themselves to its very shores to wage battle."

Her words attract all of their attention. Jonas was stunned and O'Neill was seething.

Although unsettled by her words Jonas pulled himself together to ask her "I thought that Apollo would be worshiped here; aren't you his oracle?"

"One sun god is much like another. They think they are the brightest object before all their subjects."

SG-1 were taken aback at her apparent blasphemy.

Her sightless eyes fell upon Teal'c, her tone as acid as the fumes that plumed around her. "Jaffa, have you forsaken your god for the likes of these? You who have shelter the gods with your very body, you who have protected them with the strength of your arms, and now you seek their downfall? Your woman is dead, and others shelter the son you have abandoned. You are nothing but an empty shell."

The acrid fumes engulfed the Oracle as her head sunk to her bony chest as she paused to inhaled deeply.

"I've had enough of this crap. Move out." Jack spat out angrily.

Before anyone could move the Oracle lifted her wrinkled and leathery face and cocked it to the left and spoke to Sam. "You who would rejoice in the workings of the universe, yet would snuff out the very stars that rule the day and light the night. You labor to bring forth the new yet yourself remain barren." Sam stepped back away from the stinging words.

The prophetess turned back to Sam her words now gentle and soft. "It sings to you, doesn't it? You feel it in your very bones, better than any man." And the decrepit sorceress laughed, cackling with her toothless mouth open, as the naquadah thrummed through Carter's core.

O'Neill growing increasingly angry at the old woman's vile word, words that hit too close to home, glared at her and said to his team "Let's get the hell out of here." He grabbed Carter's arm and tugged her away from the witch.

"And you" she pointed at O'Neill, holding him there with the strength of her voice, strong and strident and dripping with bile. "You, while you have the blood of the innocent still dripping from your hands, you turn on us. Cursed in your birth, cursed in your marriage and cursed by the lives you have cut down. And now you will dare to strike down and kill the very gods themselves." The oracle folded in on herself then turned her face again to O'Neill and smiled. The smiling face of the sightless, toothless hag was more terrifying than had her venom filled words. She crooned "But you, you must fulfill your destiny. You will be my revenge."

The old crone began to keen, her head thrown back, her toothless mouth open and only the whites of her eyes showing.

"Where is the one whose spirit cling to you? Where is he whose god is knowledge, who delves unceasingly for truth, he who would learn and understand? He seeks peace yet has mired so many in this endless war. He is the beloved of the Furies, and they will bring about our ruin, destroying countless civilizations and all the knowledge they have accumulated from time immemorial."

Groaning as if in pain she tore at her tattered clothing as her attendants rush to calm her.

The bravest of the women, fearful and yet seething with contempt for these foreigners, turned to the four and demanded that they leave.

As the others turned and walked away a young priestess touched Jonas' arm. He stopped and turned to her. "Beware," she said "here the offerings are water and flowers and laurel boughs. But the gods demand blood."

"The old witch" O'Neill muttered his anger palpable. But it wasn't just anger, he felt on edge. He realized as he walked along the path he was thinking about what the old bag said rather than the mission at hand. He wasn't as observant as he should be and that could be the death of them. And it was probably like that for the rest of his team. He need to refocus himself and them as well.

"She's all wrong, you know." He said to his team as he rubbed at the tightness in his chest. "No more accurate than a fortune teller at the circus or a palm reader at a seedy strip mall. If she could see the past and the future do you think she'd be toasting her ass over the stinking hole?"

**Gnothi Seauton – Know Thyself**

Authors Note: O Sophocles and all ye ancient Greeks, forgive me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

They walked on the path leading away from the fissure, all of them deep in thought - Carter and Jonas Quinn were both rather upset, O'Neill was roiling with anger and Teal'c seemingly his usual reserve dignified self. The road divided, a small path led further uphill and around and up into the mountains while the other, a wide road led through grassy meadows and woodlands toward a city wedged into a mountainside off in the distance. In that far off direction all of the high peaks were shrouded in clouds. Lower on the hillsides wisps of clouds clung to the trees. The deep crevasses were shrouded in shadows. They chose the main road which seemed deserted but then again so did the other.

Jonas, either oblivious to O'Neill's ill temper or trying to lighten the atmosphere, said "Strange, my horoscope in this mornings newspaper said my romantic fantasies will be actualized today. And that my dreams will become a reality. I should be methodical but put my trust in a higher power and my chances of getting what I want should continue to improve."

"Your dreams will come true! Were you have nightmares?" O'Neill asked.

Carter was totally incredulous "Jonas, do you believe that nonsense?"

"I thought it was part of Earth culture."

Jack laughed in spite of himself. "A lot of so called 'Earth culture' is total bullshit, Jonas. Just ask Teal'c, he knows."

Teal'c looked thoughtful and then asked "Do you believe in God, O'Neill?"

"What?" Jack was nonplussed.

"Is it not part of Earth culture?"

"Isn't it part of every culture? Honestly, I don't know. If you mean those slimy snake heads or even the Asgard who pretend to be gods – then, no, of course not. If you mean some invisible, omniscient being poking his nose into every moment of every living thing life – I can't see it." If there was such a being Jack had wondered where the hell he was when he needed him.

Sam added her ideas to the discussion. "Some think of Space-Time as a universal mother, the creator and Matter-Energy the creation.

If you are considering some modern Earth religions there is the problem of dualism. If a Supreme Being encompasses all, why then the split between good and evil – the good god versus the evil devil. If he/she is all then he/she should encompass all aspects of reality. And for that matter be in and be all reality . That's considered Pantheism – God as the Creator of all and the creation as well."

O'Neill add "Speaking of creation - what about the guy who makes the great clockwork, winds it up and forgets about it?"

"You think we have been abandoned, O'Neill?" Teal'c said.

Jack rubbed the ache in his chest. He had certainly felt the bitter pangs of abandonment but had no desire to acknowledge it, never mind discuss it.

"Would it be any better being the play thing of some being who when he gets bored of us destroys everything? This is giving me a headache."

After a moment Teal'c asked "What of the Ascended?"

"It may have been Daniel's choice but it sounds boring to me. What do you think about it Carter?" He knew she was still smarting from Daniel's loss. Maybe it was insensitive to ask but at least it was bringing it out in the open as opposed to his usual tactics.

Sam was floored that Jack had asked her. "Well you could know everything – maybe not everything but…"

"I know that appeals to you scientists but you can't do anything – what's the point? What about you T?" Jack had wondered just what Teal'c thought of Daniel's choice.

"If one spends their entire life contemplating the afterlife or trying to achieve Ascension, although an admirable goal, one dishonors the gift of the present – one's own life. We have but this one life and here is where our mind and strength must be focused. If this serves the gods so be it. If indeed there are no gods it will not have mattered. A principled life of freedom, honor and service will have been worth living."

Jack's memory flashed to Teal'c killing his duplicate in another reality without a qualm and stating that our reality was 'the only one of consequence'. He didn't know if he totally agreed with Teal'c but he admired his certainty.

Sam's face had gotten pinched and saddened and it was definitely time for a change of subject. Before he could think of something to lighten the moment Teal'c again spoke.

"Have you read the ancient writing of the Tau'ri, Jonas Quinn."

"Yeah, mostly for background to help me understand work I'm translating."

"Do your people not have these sacred writings?"

"Well, you know Teal'c, we look at our ancient writings as cultural works with gems of philosophical wisdom hidden in them. Very few on our world revere them like some do of the ancient texts of Earth. What about the Jaffa?"

"We were not encouraged to learn to read much beyond what was necessary to perform our assigned tasks. It was said 'Too much learning is a dangerous thing'."

Jack's eyebrows lifted as he quirked a smile and said "I think that was the motto of my high school."

Sam laughed and the day was brighter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

As they walked down the road they could see in all directions and in all direction there were mountains. Some were close by and they were walking in the foothills of these, others graced the distance, all of them tall, scraping the clouds, crested with jagged teeth of basalt, some dusted with snow. Lava had spewed from fissures and vents on the mountain sides. It had hardened into puddles of rock. As they looking before them, in the distance, a city; behind them, the oracle and the Stargate; uphill, flocks of sheep and down hill, orchards of fruit trees and groves of olives and vineyards. The road was lined for miles by a low field stone wall, just high enough to deter wandering sheep.

The day was heating up and it was getting close to noon. Up ahead was a small stream with a few stately trees bending gracefully over its banks. Here they ate lunch, shucked their jackets and planned the rest of the day.

The late afternoon, turning gray and overcast, took the road through a few groves of trees and then back into vast grassy fields doted with a few rustic huts, built probably to shelter the shepherds when the flocks were grazing in this area. The weather turned stormy and they took shelter in one of these before the sky opened. The hut was made of field stone, there certainly was an abundance of it lying about, and the low roof was made of thatch. It was narrow allowing only two sleeping bags down the length; Teal'c preferred to sit in a sort of lotus position near the door to meditate.

Jonas had first watch, so Jack and Sam slept on either side of the hut. Teal'c had second watch and Jack, who woke as soon as Teal'c rose, took Teal'c seat as Jonas settled down for the rest of the night in the sleeping bag. Jack nodded on and off until his watch. When he relieved Teal'c the storm had ended and a stiff wind was blowing the sky clear of clouds. This gave a view of a sky of small distant stars but as the night wore on and the planet turned on its axis a myriad of large bright stars, not too distant planets and two crescent moons gradually filled the sky. The moons, although small, were unusually bright. The pocked marked crescents would have held Jack's interest if it weren't for the other phenomena that filled this alien sky.

When Sam relieved Jack for her watch, the Colonel made no move to go back into the hut but slid over and patted the rock ledge beside him. Sam eased herself down beside O'Neill. After the chill of emerging from her sleeping bag there was a comfortable warmth sitting beside the Colonel. And with the hum of the naquadah she had a heady feeling she couldn't quite define.

O'Neill nudged her with his shoulder and pointed with his chin toward the horizon back past the Stargate. There the pale light on the horizon begin to brighten and Sam was shocked to think she had overslept straight through her entire shift. After quickly checking her watch she realized the Galactic Core was slowly beginning to rise. O'Neill could hear her quick intake of breath as she realized what she saw. There were no words to describe the sight as the horizon began to blaze with the fire of the heart of the Milky Way.

He then pointed out toward the north. And there, hanging above the craggy mountain ridge in the velvet sky, like a gauzy curtain folding and fluttering in a long ago cosmic breeze, was a glowing cloud of gas, the remnants of a long ago supernova.

" Oh my god, a Pulsar Wind Nebula, it seems so close." Sam whispered.

O'Neill smiled as they sat in amiable silence, pleased they both could delight in the amazing sight spread before them in the night sky. The last of the wonders to appear was the brilliant golden horns of the third and largest of the moons.

After a half hour O'Neill seemed to have been sated with the spectacle, but not the company, retired for the remainder of the night. He sang softly "I see the half moon arising..."

Sam smiled at first but felt a shiver down her spine when the lyrics 'bound to take your life' and 'bad moon on the rise' came to mind.

* * *

_A glimpse of you was all it took  
A stranger's glance it got me hooked.  
And I followed you across the stars,  
I looked for you in seedy bars. _

_I followed you through swirling seas,  
Down darkened woods with silent trees.  
Your love is strong and your so sweet  
You make me hard, you make me weak._

Love is Strong by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards

Jack lay down, tired, needing the remaining few hours of sleep yet finding them hard to come by. The words of the old woman tumbled through his mind. He laid on top of the sleeping bag but the subtle delicate scent of the last occupant was a distraction he didn't need, disturbed by the feelings it elicited and a desire he spent too much energy trying to ignore. He rolled on to his back to clear his head but when exhaustion finally overtook him, he rolled back to his side with his face against the cloth. He fell into a restless sleep, the warmth and scent of the woman who lay here a few hours before stirred up a jumble of memories that lay deep in the recesses of his mind. And he dreamt of large noisy machinery venting steam, a woman writhing in ecstasy above him and a sky fill with stars.

* * *

Sam walked around the hut keeping close in the shadows to prevent her silhouette's visibility. She felt refreshed and pleased to have shared with the Colonel the time they spent admiring the sea of stars that had splashed over the horizon. Looking up into the mountains she could see the occasional glow and discharge of steam from volcanic vents where magma oozed from the heart of the planet. In the direction they would travel the next day she thought she saw a glint of light. Probably something reflecting the breaking dawn. But then there it was again, a brilliant flash of light. Could it possibly be something natural? It was something definitely worth investigating. There was the possibility or, to Sam's mind the probability, that it was something artificial, either of Goa'uld or ever Asgard or Ancient design.

As the sun finally pierce the horizon the screeches and shrill cries of birds of prey echoed off the mountain tops. Sam saw them floating in the up drafts then dive off toward the city.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Trying to keep his footing on the slick shale O'Neill wondered if exploring this flash of bright light that had Carter so intrigued was worth the extra time and effort of humping a full pack up the steep hillside. They had eaten breakfast on the run. Carter, bright eyed and bushy tailed, had everything ready and had awakened them by not so subtly walking into the tiny hut bumping each in turn gathering supplies for the morning meal. She handed each a cup of coffee before they had a chance to wipe the sleep from their eyes or relieve themselves. And, of course, there was the steady stream of reasons why they had to check out this flash on the hill, laced with enough polysyllabic words to make his ears ring.

He supposed she was still delighted over the light show and it warmed him to know it had been a gift to her, from the universe undoubtedly but ...well, maybe she would have noticed it all on her own but somehow he felt as though he had a hand in it. And now some new phenomena to investigate had the woman humming.

He did think it was a good idea to approach the city only after observing it and the direction Carter wanted to go was ideal. They may not have seen any Jaffa yet but the city struck him as a typical Goa'uld settlement. Perhaps the false god was gone, if so, lucky for them and the populace. If not, he and his team had better be careful.

Reaching the near the top of the hill, on the side opposite of the city, the shale gave way to rocks and dirt with the occasional tree and shrub and eventually a thick corps of mature trees anchored the ground. As they crested the hill a wide plateau spread out before them. Much of it was wooded, then gradually giving way to a grassy plain.

As they moved through the trees they scared up a small herd of petite deer like creatures with delicate antlers. Dominating the center of the field was a massive structure composed of a 15 foot high circular wall permeated by a series of graceful arches. Through the cloister like structure they came across another circular wall this with only four large arches in the cardinal directions, opening into a central courtyard with a diameter of at least 300 feet. Except for the arched openings the structure was lined with highly polished rectangular mirrors some five foot wide and 15 feet high. In the middle of inner courtyard was a three foot high circle of cut stone outlining what appeared to be a well. Wreathes and garlands of flowers, some fresh and some long dead, festooned the well's edge. The members of SG-1 stood near the middle of the field each turning slowly taking in the enormous structure, each trying to comprehend who built it and for what purpose.

A grinding sound accompanied many of the mirrors tilting toward the sun put all of the team on high alert. An even louder metallic rusty creak issued from the central well as a golden crystalline globe emerged.

"What the hell was that?"

"Oh my god, Sir, we have to get out of here."

It took O'Neill only a second of lag time to realize what they were standing in the middle of. "I remember in boy scouts cooking with a reflective mirror ..."

"A parabolic solar oven, Sir. I think this is a solar furnace, an immense solar furnace."

As they high tailed it out of the inner court O'Neill asked "Carter, if that thing is a solar oven why did it...aah...flash before sunrise?"

"I think it might also be a giant telescope..."

"Yeah but they don't..."

"If they catch light just right they can."

Back in the area of the cloister wall Teal'c found an entrance into the inner workings of the structure. The door was ajar but did not budge with a simple push. It took all of the strength of Teal'c's arms and O'Neill's back for the door to creak open. After the team checked out the facility for occupants and structural soundness, Carter and Jonas proceeded inside what apparently was the control room which was covered with a thick layer of dust and the occasional rodent nest.

"Is anything working here?" O'Neill asked.

"It seems like it's been vacant for centuries, perhaps millennia," Jonas said as he swept clean the computer-like interface with his sleeve "but due to the power transmitted from the sun by that decrepit mirror array, the terminals might function."

Jack leaned against the control hub and it sprang to life. He jumped away.

"Thanks for turning it on Sir." Carter chuckled.

"Anytime Carter, think nothing of it." There was a strange tingling sensation going through his body he was hoping was from the Ancient technology. He was trying to squelch errant thoughts of who he'd really like to turn on.

It seemed anything running on solar power with crystal technology was moderately operational but those which were basically mechanical suffered the wear and tear of centuries without maintenance.

After plowing through the reams of documents in the still functioning computer terminals Sam and Jonas reported to a most impatient Colonel O'Neill. It had been determined by the Ancients that on rare occasions the black hole in the center of the galaxy emitted a bubble of energy. They built this facility to monitor this phenomena and absorb some of the energy.

"Okay, I'll ask again, is this place safe?"

Jonas jumped in smiling broadly, "Colonel, it seems that these bursts of energy only happen every twenty to sixty million years or so I think we'll be alright."

Carter added, "It's just an abandoned observatory of the Galactic Core. There are reams of information that will transform what we know of the universe, information about the birth of stars, young and turbulent, solar magnetic storms..."

"Magnets!"

" Sir, we need to bring these observation back with us."

"How can you carry..."

"I've transferred most of the data onto this crystal." Sam held a palm sized ruby red crystal in her hand. O'Neill nodded his okay and she tucked it into an extra pair of socks to cushion it and placed it in her pack.

"So, not a solar furnace? No chance of heating up lunch?"

"I think it probably furnished power for the city, Sir, as well as collected data from the Galactic Core but I don't think it is anywhere as efficient as it once was."

O'Neill look thoughtful "Shields, weapons..."

"I don't know, Sir"

"What was with the flowers?"

Jonas replied "The local population appear to be sun worshipers so it seem likely they look at this Ancient structure as a religious site."

They left the Ancient structure behind as they headed across the grassy expanse toward the city. Jack knew his next objective was to observe the city and determine if it was safe for them to approach the locals. The mission, after all, was to set up trade to procure the mineral wealth of this planet. It was a little after noon and Jack thought they would find a good vantage point and eat lunch while watching the comings and goings of the city below. And that if the meet and greet with the natives didn't work out, this trip through the old orifice wasn't a total wash.

What he needed to do was focus on his team and this mission, too many things seemed to be side-tracking him.

As they again approached the woods three deer were flushed out into the field and one, bolting past Jonas, was brought one down by an arrow.

'Well so much for observing the natives before meeting them.' O'Neill thought, when he heard the tell tale click and crackle of a staff weapon mere inches from the back of his head. He attempted to turn, his finger on the trigger of his P-90, but the staff weapon came down hard knocking him to the ground.

'This can't be happening again.' Jack thought.

He turned his face in the dirt to see Jonas being stripped of his weapons, Carter facing another Jaffa and Teal'c still twitching from the effects of a zat. These Jaffa, tattooed with a sun rising on the horizon, were attired in leather pants and vests, dressed for hunting. No wonder they didn't hear them. Jack felt the staff weapon move away from it's place at the base of his skull as his hands were yanked up behind his back and roughly tied with a coarse rope. He was pulled to his feet and prodded through the woods to a small camp site. There, a Jaffa looked up from the deer he was field dressing, laughed, waved his bloody knife at the captives and asked "Them too?"

They tried to speak to the Jaffa , who obviously had no idea who they were. O'Neill, with a false smile and glib attitude, tried to tell them the usual cover story, but was struck for his efforts.

The game had fled so the hunting party began to break camp.

Jack was annoyed with himself, sitting here truss up like a turkey. He yanked at the rope around his wrist needing to rub at the ache in the center of his chest.

They were captured because he was distracted. Distracted by Carter, distracted by the old witch, distracted by the Ancient technology, distracted by the deer – he failed his team. He was a soldier and that should be his only concern - the safety of his team and the success of the mission. He was starting to wonder if it was time to pack it in. He wondered if he was getting sloppy or complacent or had his luck run out, not just for him but because of him for his team.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

After their capture SG-1 cooled their heels in a make shift hunting camp while the game was readied for transport. One of the men was sent ahead to inform his master of the intruders to his domain. Then they all, Jaffa, SG-1 and slaves carrying deer carcasses and braces of game birds, made their way down to the hillside. Near the base of the hill and tucked into its side was a theater, large enough to hold perhaps three or four hundred people. As they enter the city proper most of the slaves, those with the fresh game, broke off and headed in another direction while the Jaffa prodded their prisoners toward the back of the most impressive set of building of the city. They passed hovels and fine homes, a market place and taverns. Many of the citizens, both rich and poor were bustling about, all of whom gave way in deference to the Jaffa and their captives.

Most of the town was constructed of wood or mud brick but the building they are led to was faced in finely dressed stone gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. They followed the base of the building past several additions each more modest than the last. The structure they stopped at had ancient looking foundation with a refurbished upper floors. It was the Jaffa barracks of the city complete with prison cell below.

The door they entered led to a stairway, dark and dank, which in turn led down into the bowels of the structure. The smells were fetid and the sounds emanating from below spoke of misery. Down the flight of stairs was a long gallery of cells, most unoccupied. Two slaves carried their packs, vests, jackets and weapons that they had all been stripped of after their capture. As the Jaffa rifled through their belongings, the contents of their packs were cast aside as worthless affectations of the soft and the food deemed inedible.

After their hands were untied Carter, Daniel and Teal'c had been forced into the last cell while Jack remained outside. O'Neill had mentioned quite a few times that he was in command and he was the one they should address.

A large Jaffa, powerful, tall and broad, his cape fluttering behind him, strode down the hallway directly up to O'Neill. He dismissed the other Jaffa with a wave of his hand. O'Neill was shoved up against a stone wall at the end of the narrow cell block. Summoned to question the prisoners, this Jaffa, in full glistening armor, used his foot to spread out the gear piled at Jack's feet and closely inspected Jack's arsenal. Two other Jaffa remained at the ready at the other end of the hall, blocking the exit.

The gold tattooed Jaffa turned, cocked his head and looked at O'Neill as if he were inspecting an insect. A hunting party had captured these...these members of the slave class up by the ancient sacred temple where the sun god brought his fire to Ka'Risa in times past, before...before Helios ascend to his throne among the stars taking his place in the heavens. Or as some thought, but did not dare to say, before the great sacrilege when Phaeton slew his father and assumed the mantle of godhood, took his father's wives and concubines, and sat on his father's throne to be obeyed and worshiped. He also slaughtered the old Witch and most of her attendants. The new one, some say was a daughter hidden away until she was needed, who rose up to take her place.

But back to the matter at hand. This one, the gray haired man was singled out; he stated that he was in charge and he was the one they should address. So Pythus obliged him. He push this human, free of restraints, hard against the wall in the sight of him followers.

"I am Pythus, First Prime of my Lord Phaeton."

O'Neill responded "I'm..."

Pythus cut him off "You are a slave and of no account."

The First Prime lifted the K bar and slide his thumb across the blade.

"Your knife is sharp but there is no artistry in it, as with you clothing."

It was bad enough that they had been captured and disarmed by the Jaffa of a second rate Goa'uld but now O'Neill was thoroughly irked to be subjected to said Jaffa critiquing his weapons.

Taking the sharp blade he dragged it across O'Neill's chest slicing through his T shirt and drawing a thin trickle of blood. His hands balled in fists, O'Neill glared at him.

Next the Jaffa hefted O'Neill's side arm.

His eyes narrowed, O'Neill said as he heard the safety click off "Give it to me and I'll show you how it works."

As the Jaffa bobbled the revolver to get a steady grip, Jack, reaching out to push the barrel aside, said through gritted teeth "Be careful that thing's dangerous."

"Oh is it?", the Jaffa said as he aimed the weapon point blank at O'Neill. The recoil of the weapon threw off his aim and the bullet tore through Jack's upper chest. Both men, for the briefest moment, wore the same expression – one of utter surprise. Jack's face crumpled into pain and then oblivion as he slammed into the stonewall and slid to the floor leaving a wide smear of blood.

The Jaffa's anger flared. He would have to use his master's sarcophagus or explain the severely damaged goods that his Lord Phaeton so wanted to play with. His Lord Phaeton was fastidious and the Jaffa feared he would feel his wrath if he knew this filthy commoner was in his sarcophagus. In his fury, angrily cursing the man bleeding out on the floor, he kicked Jack – what did it matter now? He savagely kicked him again - what were a few broken ribs compared to the gaping hole in his chest? Pythus turned quickly as his cape swirled behind him and stormed down the dark grim hall.

Two slaves were dispatched to retrieve the body. They grabbed Jack's feet and dragged him off, leaving blood stains down the long corridor.

Sam had listened to Jack talk back to the Jaffa. 'Why annoy them when they had the upper hand?' she thought and was so angry at this foolishness that she was thrown into total shock when the side arm's report echoed off the stone walls. Time slowed. She could still see his fingers, long and strong, inquisitive and playful... his fingers...there...reaching out to push the barrel aside...the barrel pointed to the center of his chest...to his heart. His finger tips on the barrel are so sharp and clear but all else blurs and fades as she turns to stone.

As the sound diminished so did her hearing. Jack slides to the floor, the Jaffa's curses, the cry of Jonas were a muffled buzzing. She found herself at the bars of the cell in a body made of stone unable to reach out or to look away, unable to breathe, willing the Colonel to live, to get up, to move, to breathe as they dragged his body away. She cannot seem to comprehend what she sees nor the muted sounds she hears. Her eyes fail her, everything is a blur in shades of gray except the vivid smear of red blood. She can smell and almost taste the cordite...and the blood. The blood still puddling on the stone floor. Her mind wills her to call out to him, but she cannot move her lips to form the word. 'Sir' she calls out in her mind, pleading with him to live. But her face remains the mask of the perfect soldier.

Teal'c, holding her arms guides her to the back of the cell and sits her down on the stone bench. She couldn't make out his words but understood the soothing cadence. Shock gave way as grief filled the hollow place inside her. The only word she could make out, from Teal'c or Jonas, she doesn't know and she doesn't care who, was 'sarcophagus'. That's right she thought, they must have a sarcophagus. Sarcophagus, that word echoed in her mind like the report of the revolver.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Later, when Jonas has lost his smile, no matter how hard he tried to be up beat, when Carter's nervous anxiety has given way to a acid burn deep in her gut, Jack sauntered back in to the cell block. He flashed a smile that was more of a grimace. He would have appeared casual to most anyone but those who knew him best could see the dark patched under his eyes, the gray under his perennial tan, the tremor in his hands and the way his eyes didn't quite meet any of theirs. Through the jagged holes in his t shirt one could see skin, pink of the freshly healed. He sat hunched forward, his hands on his knees, the right hand rubbing circles on his knee, a knee that no longer hurt but old habits are hard to break.

The long relentless hours of not knowing his fate has sapped her of strength, grief has rendered her a leaden shell. She couldn't speak or rise at his return. Sam was numb only moving her eyes to watch his hand trembling slightly as he rubbed his knee.

Teal'c approached O'Neill as he attempted to lie down on the wide bench.

"Are you well O'Neill?" Teal'c held Jack's shoulder and eased him down. "I'm not sure. Either I'm under done or over cooked."

Jack lay back in exhaustion, his head lolled back, mouth slightly open. He had either falling into a deep sleep or passed out.

Teal'c balled up his jacket and slipped it under Jack's head. Sam helped and let her hand trail over Jack's forehead. It was cool and she touched his hands. They were cold. She shrugged off her jacket and draped it over the sleeping man.

Jonas sat to the side watching the rest of the team – Major Carter and the Jaffa Teal'c caring for Colonel O'Neill. He still wondered where he fits in this tight group. He felt at times he just wanted to jump in and be a part but most of the time there seemed to be no room for him. Either the ghost of Daniel was in the way or the closing of ranks of these fast friends or his unfamiliarity with the Tau'ri way of doing things or his own inadequacies. He was smart enough, he knew that. And he was definitely willing. But he still felt like the outsider. O'Neill took him to the shooting range, drilled him on everything from tactics to hand signals, Teal'c practiced hand to hand and that absurd sport boxing, Sam helped him breeze through their different scientific methods, and every bit of electronics from their computers to the varied instrumentation. And he knew that they trusted his skill in linguistics and translation.

He wanted to be like Colonel O'Neill. Not the intransigent and occasionally childish man but the one who stood up when he knew he would bear the difficult choices, he would be the one to bear the pain. He saw how the rest of the team respected the colonel and he in turn respected them. They might disagree or even get annoyed with one another but there was no doubt where they stood when push came to shove. Jonas, too, wished someday a woman looked at him the way Major Carter looked at O'Neill.

He wondered if he could ever measure up in Colonel O'Neill's eyes. Daniel stood up where he should have. It was Jonas' world that Daniel saved – his people. He failed, he hesitated, he was a coward and wondered if this would mark him forever to the friends of Daniel. At night he wondered too what his world thought of him – coward and traitor. He thought by bringing the Naquadria to Earth it would help both worlds. He did what he thought was best, that was the past, he had to live in the now. And now he was in a predicament with his team and together they would get out of it. Together, not holding hands like school children but with cooperation they would succeed. He had to believe.

Major Carter looked over at him and gave him a smile of assurance. He in turned smiled back feeling more confident. He needed to keep positive, that's how he functioned best. And he felt at peace – as much peace as you could muster in a Goa'uld prison.

Jack awoke during the night and got unsteadily to him feet. He realized during the night Carter and Teal'c had closed ranks and slept close to him. He found the appropriate bucket and relieved himself and found the water bucket and splashed his face thoroughly and drank deeply. He sat, then paced, then sat again when he thought he might disturb the others. There he felt Teal'c eyes on him.

"Not much recon. I don't remember anything but long dark hallways after I got out of that god damned box." He realized he voice had graduated from a whisper to an angry rasp and turned away.

He laid down again and fumbled with Sam's jacket. He tried to doze but as exhausted as he felt, sleep now alluded him. A dark night in another prison cell brought renewed feelings of failure and despair. He had a job to do and a team that relied on him. He rubbed at the pain in his chest.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

When the morning dawned two slave women entered the cell block with large baskets and approached the cells, handing food through the bars to the few prisoners. Sam and Jonas neared the women who then handed them their breakfast, the mug filled with porridge and the loaves still warm from the oven. It was too much to handle all four of the mugs so Sam, after handing a mug and loaf to the Colonel, made a return trip to the pleasant but shy women. The younger of the two noticed Sam's dog tags. Dropping the loaf back into her basket as she reached out but stopped short of touching Sam's tags. She gazed into Sam's face and appeared flustered as her companion reminded her of her duty to feed the future messengers to the gods. The women completed their task as Sam stared after them.

"What was that about?"

"I don't know sir but I think one of the women liked my dog tags."

"We've never been anywhere near here before. Have we?"

"No sir. Maybe it was just curiosity."

Lifting the mug in Carter's direction O'Neill said "Don't let it get cold, Major. It's actually good."

The porridge had been sweetened with honey and had the subtle flavor of cinnamon and the bread was a whole grain with a nutty taste.

O'Neill ate what he could and passed the remainder to Teal'c. The effects of the day before had his entire system unsettled. Within minutes the tramp of Jaffa could be heard in the hallway.

"On you feet slaves." Pythus said.

They all remained as they were.

The two guards raised their staff weapons snapping them open and aiming them at SG-1.

They all rose. The Jaffa glared and pointed to Jack.

"The other will step back."

Jack strode forward as the cell was opened and casually said "Don't wait up for me kids."

He walked straight ahead, following the First Prime, but his eyes darted about looking for escape routes, places to hide and weaknesses in their defenses. They kept up a brisk pace and Jack lagged as they ascended a long steep staircase.

Struggling to catch his breath Jack looked at the smirking Pythus and asked "Did you do it on purpose?"

The Jaffa thought it over wondering if the Tau'ri had meant the shooting or the all too brief stay in the sarcophagus. He turned and poked O'Neill in the chest through the hole in his T-shirt and said "To make you a bit more pliable." He turned on his heels and with a swirl of his cape lead them onward.

Jack kept thinking of ways to overtake them, escape and rescue his team. More realistically he wondered if he had the energy to walk where the Jaffa was taking him. He did not want to be dragged before the Goa'uld running this show. He did have his pride, a lot of good it did him. Staggering down the passage way Jack thought 'If that Jaffa only knew my back hurt worse than...'

Just then one of the Jaffa poked his with a staff weapon in that exact spot on his back, urging him forward.

Jack stifled a groan. 'Okay that hurt' he thought 'maybe today will be about recon'. If only he could keep is eyes open, if only he could stay on his feet.

With his eyes cast down for the most part Jack did notice his path. The walk so far had been over rough cobbles stones of the dungeons to the flagstones of the stairs and hallway of the servants area. He could hear the clattering of dish ware and smelt bread and cooked meat at one intersection. As they proceeded to the palace proper, up another wide flight of broad steps, the floors were of marble plain at first becoming more ornate with border designs of colored stone. When he had the energy to glance up he noticed smooth marble wall with an occasional alcove with lifelike sculptures and massive painted urns.

When Jack was sure he could not take another step there before him was an immense hall crowded with people. Three sides were lined with massive columns. A large altar jutted out on a rostrum on the far end of the room. Opposite the altar at the other end of the room was a highly decorated wall with a hall way in the center leading to a labyrinth of rooms. In the center of the hall was a raised daïs with a golden throne, a vacant throne.

Daniel would have given his eye teeth to see this, Jack thought. So often when they had come across something like this it was found crumbling and half buried under centuries worth of debris. But Daniel was on another path now.

Around the audience hall milled a wide assortment of people. Jaffa stood guard at the throne and at all the entrances; priests chanted and offered sacrifice on the altar which was covered by some smoldering remains; men holding scrolls argued; family groups stood with gifts waiting to bestow them upon their lord, to curry his favor. There were musicians and jugglers, as well as servants carrying trays of food and pitchers of wine adding to the din.

Close to where O'Neill stood was a noble hoping to be acknowledged. With him was an older woman, presumably his wife, a son in his twenties and a girl. The girl was veiled so that only her eyes , her heavily kohled eyes alone showed. There were golden bangles on her wrists and across her brow was a delicate chain from which hung thin golden discs. He met her eyes when she walked past, she sniffed and looked at him with disdain. He realized what he must have looked like to her; his clothing was torn and bloody and he was obviously a prisoner. Hearing the delicate sound he looked down at her feet, there were anklets of tiny bells that tinkling as she walked.

The pretty girl tried to ignore the stranger but everything in the great lords throne room was exciting and totally new to her. She had been kept sheltered since she was but a child, not allowed to play with the other children or mingle with house guests. Her father insisted that she was the key to the family's future. He molded her so he could use her to procure a future for her oldest brother. She was taught to be a refined lady, manners of the court were prime as well as skill with a lyre and a trained delicate singing voice. She was constantly accompanied by her handmaid so no one could question her virtue.

She saw the dog tags peek out from the man's ragged shirt. What an ugly ornament she thought – two gray planks of metal with a dull black border on a drab metal beaded chain. Certainly not pretty like the thin wafers of gold that hung from her filigree headband. This dirty, ragged, poor and most certainly doomed man was not worthy of her notice. She gave her head a little toss and delighted in the gentle tinkle of the golden wafers on her brow.

A blast from a horn sounded and all fell silent. Curtains hung from between the columns were drawn back and sunlight flooded the hall. Then the priests intoned a hymn.

"The gods exult when they see thy rising, O Helios,

the gods of the underworld quake before thee,

when thy rays flood the world with Thy light

they shine upon thy only son, our god Phaeton."

From the hallway in the back of the temple a troop of Jaffa marched forward, then more priests emerged, some carrying thuribes filled with incense, other with drums or bells. They were followed by beautifully clad and heavily jeweled young women. Finally, there stood Phaeton, arrayed as the only and beloved son of the god Helios, and all bowed down before him. Jack was forced to his knees and with a staff weapon between his shoulder blades, his face was push almost to the floor. A priest intoned a paean as the procession made its way through the parted crowd so that Phaeton could mount his throne. As the Goa'uld sat he raised his hand to his people, the chanting ceased and the crowd rose and again murmuring increased as groups sought Phaeton's attention. Jack was allowed to get to his feet.

The day was a jumble of prayers, audiences, and entertainment all for the sheer pleasure of the god Phaeton.

As the sun began to set, all in the hall bowed low as the priest intoned a hymn and offered sacrifice to the setting sun. A horn sounded, the crowd again quieted, Jack was again forced to his knees, the procession formed and Phaeton swept out of the hall. The crowd dispersed and Jack, who stood ignored all day, was led back to his cell.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Dinner arrived much the same as breakfast. Women with heavy basket doled out large mugs, this time laden with a vegetable stew, and loaves of bread. Again as Sam approached the bars, the woman handing out the food hesitated, glancing at Sam's tags. She looked fleetingly at Sam but her eyes darted away nervously as they both heard the loud tramp of approaching Jaffa. The women finished their assigned task quickly and disappeared.

The colonel was thrust into the cell, the cell door was slammed shut and Jack gave his team a tight grim smile. They all looked at him and he had nothing for them. Carter broke the ice and brought him one of the loaves and mug of stew. He took the food but as hungry as he was, he still did not have much of an appetite.

The serving women, finished for the day, made their way back to the inner kitchen where the food was prepared for serving after it had been brought in from the main kitchens.

"So where is my pottery? You know those in the cells are very hard on my dishware."

The mistress of the pantry was incensed that the slave girls had not finished their assigned task.

"My lady, one of the prisoners had just returned from the divine presence."

"Finish your dinner then get my pottery."

Cooper slid into the bench beside the girls and shared the left overs from the platters served to the court.

"We have new prisoners to feed?" He felt for the poor souls, he knew what the future had in store for them.

"There are four of them. Three men, one a Jaffa, and a woman." The girl looked around furtively, nibbled a few more mouthfuls then whispered "They have these." as she touched Cooper's tags nestled under his shirt.

Cooper thought he'd be sick. They were finally here and managed to be imprisoned before he even caught sight of them. They had finally come to save him and he had to rescue them. Well so be it. He had to think and plan, he had to be cool and with the festival fast approaching he didn't have much time. And in the meanwhile he needed to give them hope.

When the girls went back to collect the dishware Jack stood by the bars with the mugs in his hand. He held them firm not letting the woman take them trying to catch her eye. She smiled shyly and slipping her hand beneath her robe drew out a packet wrapped in cloth. She took the mugs and stole away.

After assuring himself that there was no one else beside his cellmates able to see, Jack unwrapped the gift. It was a whole roasted... chicken? It smelled like chicken. Jack licked one of his fingers, it tasted like chicken, so he split it in half and handed the half to Teal'c. Each of them splitting it yet again.

"I think we have a friend." Jack said almost without sound.

Each of them made short work of their quarter of the small bird.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Sam watched the colonel lying there, who even after hours of fitful sleep, looked exhausted. She heard the clank of armor and woke him, knowing he would not wish to be caught unaware when the Jaffa came for him. It seemed an effort for him to open his eyes. And when he did it was with a fleeting look of vulnerability which was replaced immediately by the blank impenetrable stare as he forced his body to meet the day.

He feigned weakness and staggered slowly down the long hallways with the Jaffa guard. On this trip he memorized his path, assessed each hallway and alcove for a spot to hide or a path to escape and looked for weaknesses in their defenses. It didn't look like it would be easy, there were many Jaffa and servants milling around the hallways. However, this Goa'uld seemed to feel quite secure here in the navel of the galaxy and his Jaffa guards perhaps a little too relaxed. Jack needed to devise a plan.

For the rest of SG-1 breakfast came much the same as the day before but the loaves were full of a flavorful cheese. The buckets were replaced. The women said nothing but gave gentle reassuring smiles.

The routine in the main audience hall was much the same as the day before. He saw the heavily veiled and bejeweled girl again. She couldn't be much older than Cassie. And Jack realized she was here wrapped up like a Christmas present for that parasite. Today her eyes were not so haughty, she must have begun to realize what her future had in store. Backing away from her father's grasping hands she almost bumped into Jack. Her eyes were wide in surprise or fear. Maybe, Jack thought, she realizes they are in the same boat - playthings for that monster.

Today Jack took in more of the lay out of the audience hall. The back walls were covered with spears, swords, shields, staff weapons and pain sticks and gold, so much gold. He thought he hadn't a chance in hell to get near the weapons, never mine pry them off the wall. And maybe they were just decorations and useless.

Between some of the columns silken banners were hung with the emblem of the sun rising over the horizon, same as the tattoo on the Jaffa's foreheads. It reminded him of the logo on his granddad's old Coleman lantern. The crowds appeared to gather into groups: aristocrats, some with families, young athletic types, the priestly caste and entertainers.

It must have been a feast day of some sort, the activity at the altar seemed more elaborate, the chanting was interminable and O'Neill could barely breath for the clouds of incense.

"At your rising and your setting, Lord have mercy.

Shine upon the beasts of the herds,

Shine upon the grasses of the fields.

Warm the seas and all the creatures therein,

Warm the lakes and the streams.

Shine upon the frozen mountains,

Shine upon the barren deserts.

Shine upon the children of men,

Warm the hearts of those that worship you."

Even Phaeton, as he mounted his throne, looked bored. Phaeton flicked his hand and the droning came to and end.

Near the altar at the far end of the hall, far from the throne, an argument broke out among the different faction of priests.

"Does not all come from Hera. Once she was called the source of this swirl of stars. It is written:

'The breast of Hera – the source of this swirl of stars

The womb of Hera – the end point and source of life

The navel of Hera – center of this swirl of stars'."

The other shouted back. "Without Helios there is no light."

And again one faction answered. "Is not Helios the son of Hera?"

The argument was becoming heated and physical violence threatened to break out.

"Before Hera there was Helios.

And as Helios dwells in the sky

He has not left us alone.

He has given to us his chosen one.

Phaeton is his beloved son."

And Phaeton with his acute godly senses heard this decent, decent he would not tolerate. The loud deep resonating voice of the Goa'uld bellowed,

"I am Phaeton, your god. You shall have no others before me.",

quelling the arguing priests and silencing the court, bringing them to their knees.

A young and most ambitious priest said to the old men "Who could behold his greatness without envy." hoping to put them in their place.

Some of the older priests thought Phaeton usurping Helios was blasphemy. But then again Helios was gone and here stood Phaeton and his cohort of Jaffa. So wisely they kept their thoughts to themselves and hoped the loud mouth fools did not bring the wrath of the god upon them all.

The priests approached Phaeton with so much scraping and bowing Jack had the urge to give them a swift kick and tell them to be men. Burly Jaffa on either side of him prevented any thoughts from proceeding into action. The men at Phaeton's feet had scrolls and what seemed like astronomical devices of gleaming brass so old that only Daniel would have appreciated.

Phaeton glanced in Jack's direction and nodded to his First Prime. Pythus smiled at O'Neill, a smile that chilled his soul, and marched him off toward Phaeton's throne.

O'Neill was forced to his knees at the feet of the Goa'uld while the priests gather round. Jack despised kneeling before this parasite.

One of Phaeton's entourage approached, bowed low to the Goa'uld, turned to question O'Neill. Before the man had a chance to open his mouth Jack stood and with a sarcastic smile said "Hi, how you doin'"

He was met with an angry glare. How could a man in this position be so insolent or was he a fool, the man wondered?

"Why have you come to Ka'Risa?"

"We're peaceful explorers and if we are not welcome we'll gladly return home."

"And where is home?"

O'Neill did not answer.

"Have you been sent by another of the gods?"

Jack thought to keep his mouth shut but could not resist. "No."

"What do you know of the Gods?"

"Well for one thing, I know that Ra is dead."

There was a stir amongst those close to O'Neill who heard this unbelievable fact.

"The gods cannot die. However, they have been known to leave us mortal and to rise to the heavens." an elderly priest retorted.

"He was attempting to rise to the heavens when I blew him to hell."

A pain stick was jabbed between O'Neill's shoulder blades. He crashed to his knees as pain arced throughout his body.

"Cronus is dead as well as Heru'ur and Apophis." Jack said, his voice a mere croak.

He was struck again brutally and the crowds accused him of blasphemy.

Many shouting "He utters slander against the gods." and "They are gods, they cannot die."

Phaeton said nothing, he knew better.

Phaeton rose from his seat, waited until all eyes were on him and finally asked the crowd. "What say you of this man?"

"A blasphemer must die." they shouted.

The priests squabbled a bit amongst themselves as O'Neill staggered to his feet.

It seemed as though there were prophecies regarding a stranger that the oldest of the priest recalled. So they surrounded O'Neill and asked if he was the prophesied one . Peppering him with questions they asked him where was he from and who had sent him and had he consulted the oracle. They were curious if he were the one to vanquish the Egyptians and cause the ascendancy of the gods of Olympus and the mighty Titans.

O'Neill kept his peace until questioned about which god did he serve.

"Certainly not this parasite..."

The staff weapon knocked him to the ground his face bloodied.

Phaeton's facial expression tightened but did not even glance in Jack's direction.

"What did the Oracle say?" A old wizened priest asked.

Jack spat back "That old lying hag."

There was a gasp from all who heard this utterance of a slave. This time Phaeton looked to his Prime and nodded. The staff weapon knocked the wind out of him and slammed down again across his back. Phaeton may have been at odds with the Oracle but he would brook no disrespect.

One of the younger priest who sided completely with the new order said

"Perhaps Epiphanes we can use this one as an augury. He can be the sacrifice to your beloved father Helios at his rising and we can read his entrails for the prophesy."

Jack realized they wanted to sacrifice him to their god. He had witnessed how they sacrificed animals. They slit one of the arteries in its throat and filled bowls with blood and splashed it on the altar, then sliced open its belly, while it's heart was still beating, splaying its guts to read omens then burned the rest.

One of the most ancient of the priests, whose loyalty was still with the god Helios and finding human sacrifice abhorrent, responded "Even Zeus, himself, in all his works keeps Mercy at his feet, poised beside his throne" and muttering into his beard " and Justice sitting beside him."

Phaeton glared at the man and said, "You know too of his servants - Might and Violence." Phaeton would do what he damned well pleased.

"Surely my Lord, if you need him, if you will it, he will rise again." the younger priest argued knowing the mysterious sarcophagus could restore life.

Phaeton muttered low enough so that Jack could hear him. "It takes a little longer when parts are missing." Jack recoiled at the cool smooth touch of the metallic finger tips as Phaeton stroked his face.

While the priest argued amongst themselves and Jack realized there are two schools here. The more self-possessed men spoke of Helios as god and the blatant ass-kissers addressed Phaeton as god. Perhaps he could drive a wedge between the factions, distract the Jaffa and use the chaos to escape.

The gaggle of clerics again consulting their scrolls ask the Lord Phaeton if they might use a mystical elixir to get truthful answers from this man.

"Surely" they said "this man lies about the other gods. We need to seek the truth. Perhaps some magic has clouded his mind so that he is not aware off his purpose here."

Phaeton, seemingly bored with their nonsense, acquiesced to their request to gather the herbs required to prepare the potion, 'The Blood of the Lord of the Open Tomb'.

It was the Blood of Sokar they were talking about and Jack remembered all too well what that did to him. O'Neill tried his best not to let the terror he felt show, his mind shifted into over drive trying to figure an escape route.

Phaeton, although he hid it well, was in fact obsessed with the need for the information this slave possessed and what he was capable of and, most important, what the old crone told this man. Was he danger or an opportunity. He allowed the necromancers to go with the alchemists. They were dismissed to go to the necropolis to gather the ingredients and prepare the potent drug, the gateway into O'Neill's mind.

Phaeton had little tolerance for the foolish beliefs of the few Chaldean Magi who took refuge in his world. He had feared their allegiance was to the vile Ba'al. They needed to be reminded there was no magic there was only the power of him – Phaeton, their only god. But knowledge was power and he needed to know, even if he needed to use their dark methods.

Jack was hauled back to stand at the edge of the chamber until Phaeton became bored with the chatter of the nobles and their endless requests. As the crowd bowed low the royal entourage processed out so that Phaeton could seek pleasure in his harem.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

After the young serving girls cleared away the pottery and debris from the noon meal another visitor appeared before the bars of the cell. She was a slender woman covered head to toe in simple dark cloak but peaking underneath were brilliant rose-colored garments. The warden of the cell block had accompanied her to SG-1's cell. He bowed his head for her blessing which she bestowed graciously and then bade him leave her. He expressed his duty to protect her but she demurred. As a priestess of Helios, he assured her, she was of a privileged class and well-respected but these, the prisoners, were slaves with no respect for the gods. The prisoners were dangerous and his life would be forfeit if she were to come to any harm. She smiled at the man and asserted that the gods, who were all-powerful would protect her as well as the stout bars. The warden left muttering.

When the warden was out of earshot the priestess turned to the prisoners. They were an odd group; a Jaffa with the gold emblem of a First Prime of the god of the underworld, Apophis, a young man and a woman clad in men's clothing. They were his companions so they would know.

"Is he the 'one who is to come' or shall we look for another?"

Carter approached her slowly not wishing to frighten the woman with the very strange question. "We are peaceful explorers, there has been some kind of mistake. If you could help us get out of here."

"Is the man before Phaeton the promised one?" the priestess was insistent.

"I don't understand your question." Carter said. "I'm Samantha Carter and these..."

"The one before Phaeton, it is he, that I need to know about." The priestess looked down the cell block to reassure herself that they were alone.

"The novice at the chappa'ai said that he, whom the glory of Helios shone upon, would not let her kneel to him. She was frightened and did not obey but he did not strike her down."

"I heard, too, from my sisters that the Oracle herself gave messages to you all. I was told that she gave dire warning yet thought the silver-haired one was to be a blessing on our world and not a curse."

She tried to speak in more hushed tones. "Phaeton is a monster, he is no god. There are prophecies that another will supplant him, that Phaeton is the cause of his own destruction. He will go down in flames for usurping his beloved father and for that abomination - his practice of the blood sacrifice."

"The oracle, the former oracle the one beloved of Helios, suffered at the hands of Phaeton. Her daughter has assumed her role as is our custom. She has spoken of these things but only to those initiated in the mysteries. I should not be speaking to you of these things but I must know – is he a god, will the power of god come upon him?"

Teal'c understood the priestesses questions. "O'Neill is just a man, he is no god but neither is Phaeton. If he can he will free you from this false god and give your people freedom."

"Please do not speak of this. If Lord Phaeton learns of my inquiry, the mere interest...I am not that strong. I fear he will learn of the subversives looking forward to one who will replace him. If he found out he would gladly slaughter all of us and our families."

The woman had a moment of panic, wondering if she had been foolish to speak to these strangers, to put herself and so many others in jeopardy.

"We will tell no one. Be assured." Teal'c, calm and dignified, sought to bring peace to the woman.

"May Helios warm your hearts and light your path." And with that she fled.


	14. Chapter 14

Midnight on the water  
I saw the ocean's daughter...  
And I can't get it out of my head  
No, I can't get it out of my head

Electric Light Orchestra

**Chapter 14**

Phaeton strode back to his luxurious quarters and dismissed the bobbing servants and noxious hangers-on. He was too distracted to enjoy his harem although he did give a moment's consideration to the new gift awaiting him in his audience chamber. When the family with the girl in tow first appeared the girl walked with a lithe grace, her step always accompanied by the delightful music of her adornments. She obviously wanted to attract his attention without appearing to. Now she was still and withdrawn into herself, a frightened little virgin, soundless except for an occasional annoying jangle. She was not that ravishing nor her father that rich, so he would let the family sit and stew a while and not appear too anxious lest the father think he would possess more influence because of the girl. Maybe he would sacrifice her to his beloved father on the feast just to put the girl's father in his place.

Phaeton needed to think about the strangers who appeared through the chappa'ai. They had not come before his throne to throw themselves at his feet. The blood of the Gods, Titans and Heroes ran through his veins. He was the God and ruler of this world, the Omphalos, all citizen and any stranger should bow down before him. He was Goa'uld and all should tremble before him.

He was working himself into a frenzy and he had to think clearly.

He caught his image in the mirrored glass. He was resplendent in his luxurious garments and handsome host. Yes, indeed, who could behold such greatness without envy. Was it vanity to admire oneself, one so marvelous? He was a god.

He had to think.

There were four in this strange group of individuals.

The Jaffa was nothing. Yes, he was a First Prime to that god of darkness, Apophis. He could be absorbed in his forces or eliminated. The man, his First Prime had brought before him, said that Apophis, dark god of the Egyptian underworld, was dead. How fitting, yet how can this be? Is this how he came into position of this Jaffa?

The woman was nothing. She was too old to be taken into his harem although her coloring was unusual, perhaps she could be kept as a slave for a favorite.

The younger man could be used as a slave.

But the older man, the gray hair, he was the one who held the power of the group. He was the one who brought them here for a reason and that Phaeton needed to know.

Was he one who had been foretold or was he sent by an enemy?

Was he really a slayer of gods?

Was he a tool or a threat?

And what had the old hag said to him?

On top of that they were found near the ancient device. Are they the children of the builders coming to reclaim this world? It had been eons ago, why now?

And what of his weapons, strange and of great power?

Or was he a spy for the other Gods?

The Egyptian Gods, Ra and his cohort, had their own source of the sacred element and did not seek them out here.

His beloved father, the great God Helios, had the courage to come to this planet and populate it and reap its bounty. The wealth of this world made Helios great among the gods but its location served divergent purposes. It protected them from being easily conquered by ship but it isolated them from the power struggles among the System Lords.

The other Olympians, his brother gods, had not visited for quite a while. Surely they lived. News of the other kingdoms was sorely missed and had Phaeton feeling somewhat paranoid. That, as well as not having a queen to supply new symbiotes for his Jaffa, had Phaeton on the edge of disaster. His father, that old fool, had failed miserably to lure the lovely and fertile Aphrodite, he was too busy lusting after Ocean's daughters. And his union with Rhode spawned the long line of Crones who perhaps could see the future but more likely told blatant lies to all who came before them. And Ocean, that fool, he thought he could control the waves of matter and energy through out the galaxy and where was he now?

Perhaps he had not heard from Cronus or Athena because they had found new sources of naquadah and gold. Phaeton supposed there was quite a bit of these precious elements to be found in the many worlds that flowed like milk from the breast of Hera.

At least that foul Ba'al had not tried to conquer Ka'Risa since Helios ruled.

Could this mere man have been sent by one of his fellow gods to probe his kingdom for weaknesses in order to plunder its riches?

Should he allow the nobles and priests to decide the stranger's fate? They, of course, would scramble to ken what Phaeton wanted done. It amused him to think of their panic to please him. But even this was too much power to accede to the rabble.

The priests wished to used their potent drugs to open the mind of this man and Phaeton would allow them to use the Egyptian magic. This stranger would not withhold any secrets from him. And then Phaeton could use the man. If he were the one foretold Phaeton would be sure to have the man worship at his feet. If he were a spy then perhaps a very public execution as a sacrifice to his father on the feast day. Or perhaps not. Would this show the people the kingdom was vulnerable? This man has proclaimed himself a god-slayer. It would be best to turn him and use him as a servant obeying Phaeton's every whim. Phaeton would need a means of controlling him and keeping his completely subservient. He thought back to his loyalty to his father and how he had bided his time until he was ready to strike. If only these strangers had been brought to him secretly instead of marched through the entire city. The errors in judgment of his First Prime would soon no longer be a problem.

In a few days, as was the custom on the feast day, he would go before the Oracle for her prophesy and then make sacrifice to Helios. He would display his divinity to all and keep the masses as well as the priests and climbers under his foot.

However, there was the Oracle to content with. Phaeton feared the old woman. She saw what no one else did. But the evil old hag mislead everyone. She told his god and father Helios that with the assistance of his son he would rise into the heavens and all his subjects would fall down and worship his might. Helios had sought to trade for a Ha'tak and thought that this meant he would be successful. However, what the crone had predicted was Helios' murder at Phaeton's hand and the people's belief that he had ascended to the heavens.

Last year in the guise of congratulating him on being a loyal and loving son, she said that he should wear a red scarf around his neck and let it trail down his chest. Rather than a fashion statement she obliquely told him to cut his own throat.

Phaeton would have to be careful and parse out her words; the bitch was evil incarnate. He could not suffer this affront to his godhood, he could not allow her to live. But how could he do it with out her knowing? She was weak, an old woman, he could snap her scrawny neck in his bare hands. He would send her to dwell with Helios and install a woman of his own choosing.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Pythus, escorting O'Neill back to his cell, bade his Jaffa to wait at the door to the cell block so that he could speak privately to O'Neill.

"You are a fool, you know. You think you can speak to the god and he would heed you?

He does not consider the babbling of the priests and learned men, he seeks his own counsel. He did not flinch at murdering his own god and father do you think he would flinch at your words, Tau'ri?

Fall down before him and worship him and spare your life. Perhaps he will allow you to keep your woman."

Jack just shook his head and strode to the cell opened by the jailor. Before the door swung shut Pythus called Teal'c out to speak privately to him.

"There is a place for such as you among our elite troops. Honors and wealth would be heaped upon you as well as your choice of women if you serve the great god Phaeton."

"I will not serve the Goa'uld Phaeton. He is no god."

Speaking softly Pythus said "Whether he is a god or not no man can say, our span of days are too short but Phaeton stands before us with the power of a god."

"I will not serve a false god. I have pledged my loyalty to these." gesturing indicating SG-1.

"There is no life without the gods." Pythus gestured to his symbiote. "Is this not something of the divine, your long life and health?"

"It is a demon and with the Goa'uld there is only slavery. I shall live and die free."

Pythus snorted in derision as the cell door slammed on Teal'c. "Freedom indeed. You are a fool." He muttered.

"Would you speak with the others?" Teal'c asked.

"They are nothing." was the only reply as the cell door clanged shut.

As Pythus walked back to his post he thought about his future. He could not get these slaves to bend to his will. If he were only allowed to use all the resources at his disposal but his lord wanted that pleasure himself.

Pythus feared his symbiote was mature and there were no infant larva available. He suspected what Phaeton had in mind. He had served his god long and well. He rose through the rank and through his strength and cunning had achieved the rank of First Prime. And now, could it be possible he would be sacrificed for such as these, these slaves. It was beyond the pale.

* * *

Jack was back in his cell in the late afternoon and was starved, and Carter, god love her, saved him some food. He put out his hand and realized how dirty it was.

"Give me a minute."

He went over to the water bucket and took a deep drink. There was plenty of water so he filled the dipper again and leaning over to the side poured it over his head. Sluicing more water over his face he rubbed his hands over his face. He figured he had 3 or 4 days of scruff. He was losing track of time. He felt filthy. What he wouldn't give for a fresh change of clothes and a hot shower, never mind a razor. That he could put to good use.

Was he becoming a wuss? It took his 9 days to walk out of Iran-Iraq border area with a fractured skull – no shower, no fresh clothes, no team to rely on, and only the food and water he had was what he could find. Boy, he was glad he at least hadn't pissed his pants or worse when that Jaffa shot him, sphincters were known to open at moments like that – thank god for small favors.

Collecting his lunch he tore into it while thinking about the treat being prepared for him. That did wonders for his appetite. Teal'c would get the rest as an afternoon snack.

The rest of the day was spent with O'Neill giving as much recon as he could and trying to come up with a plan for their escape. Talk amongst them was subdued, throwing out idea after idea, already discussed and rejected during O'Neill's absence. The futility of their situation settled upon them. Their only hope was a servant girl who seemed to recognize their dog tags.

When asked what Goa'uld ruled here O'Neill watched Carter when he said, "It's Futon, no that's wrong. He's a chip off the old block – Photon." He knew his quip would be wasted on the stoic Teal'c or the clueless Jonas but Daniel might have had appreciated it. He caught Carter stifling a smile.

"No Colonel O'Neill, I believe it must be Phaeton the son of Helios and Clymene, Ocean's daughter. He stole Helios' golden chariot..." Jonas was so earnest, O'Neill could barely resist tormenting him but it would prove to be no fun like it would have been with Daniel.

He told them what he could: the murder of Helios at Phaeton's hand, the different factions some still siding with the dead Helios, the number of Jaffa he saw and the lay out of the buildings, entrances and guard postings. He asked if they had any more contact with the woman who seemed to recognize their dog tags. Carter told him different women brought the noon meal and they were uncommunicative. He waited until the last to tell them of the priest's plans – the delightful elixir to enter his mind.

"They don't seem to have a supply on hand. I don't know how long it's going to take them to cook it up and I'd be glad if we could get out of here before it's ready."

His team looked at him with apprehension but only Carter truly knew just how truly awful the experience was. If this all went south it was Carter he would rely upon to save his team. He needed to tell her that if he was taken and they had to take a chance, to cut their losses and run, save themselves. And he thought about what the Jaffa had said. If he would kneel before Phaeton, maybe he could get close enough to... what could he do? He had no weapons to speak of beside his bare hands and he wasn't in top form and too damned many Jaffa. Any attempt to take Phaeton down would only result in another trip through the sarcophagus. And perhaps the incensed Jaffa would take it out on his team. No he needed a better plan, he needed a choice, he needed a weapon.

The women arrived with dinner which smelled delicious. Jack stopped one of the women with an inquisitive look while gently touching her hand. She reached into her pocket and brought out a dog tag and handed it to O'Neill. Benjamin Cooper it read. He turned toward his team.

"One of SG-11's men." O'Neill said.

He turned back quickly "Is he here?"

The woman nodded and gave Jack a shy smile. She held out her hand and he replaced the tag.

"Tell him SG-1."

She repeated it haltingly and left.

"Sir, I thought they were all..." It seemed Carter could not voice the word dead. It was too close to their probably fate.

"Obviously not."

He ate well that night, finally. They had a chance and maybe he could avoid the potion being prepared for him.


	16. Chapter 16

"_I know it would be outrageous  
To come on all courageous  
And offer you my hand  
To pull you up on to dry land  
When all I got is sinking sand" _

_ The Other Side by David Gray_

**Chapter 16**

No rescue last night and none this morning. Jack was up early, in fact he barely slept. Rescue didn't seem to be an option this morning and Jack needed to think about what would happen today. If he were lucky they would need a few days, maybe a few months to prepare his special treat but luck didn't seem to be smiling on him this go around.

He realized Carter was awake and sitting up looking at him. Teal'c, too, was awake and Jack looked to him first. He realized he was just grasping at straws.

"T, you have any ideas?"

"I'm sorry O'Neill. My symbiote protects me from this potent drug."

Jack's eyes met Sam's and they sensed each others desperation.

"Sir, last time...when Apophis...I had no idea how..."

"Me neither"

"If you could focus your thoughts maybe you could direct what the hallucinations were."

"How could I..."

"Well I was wondering...if you had an ear worm..."

"What!"

"You know when you get a song stuck in you head and..."

"Oh yeah. Any suggestions?"

Sam, although she wanted desperately to help, shook her head no.

The conversation was strangely disjointed. Both of them remembered all to well the horror of the hallucination of a loved one turning on them, morphing into their enemy, tainting a moment in time that had been so wroth with emotion. Sam would do most anything to spare him.

After their little trip to Ne'tu they both had to see Dr. McKenzie. Sam told him as little as possible. She explained how a hallucination of her father had morphed into Apophis but nothing else. Try as he might to find out more she claimed she just didn't remember, her mind was so unclear from the drug, lack of food and water and so much happened afterward. O'Neill was as closed mouth as Carter choosing to ignore this latest assault on his soul.

* * *

"_are you so scared to look within  
The ghosts are crawling on our skin" _

_The Other Side by David Gray_

The walk to the audience chamber today was perhaps the grimmest yet. Jack had to think, he had to come up with a plan to prevent the Blood of Sokar from taking over his mind. There must be some way of channeling his thoughts, some way of directing his mind so that he did not give away any of earth's secrets and so that the evil potion did not drag him so far down into the depths of despair that he could not climb out again.

McKenzie, that quack, had questioned him endlessly trying to dig out every scrap of his soul but Jack told him he just couldn't remember. He said there were some questions about the Asgard but claimed the rest was a blur. How then, McKenzie wanted to know that you know you didn't tell Apophis any secrets.

"I don' know much but I do know that is one thing I didn't do, would never do." Jack had said. And McKenzie let him slide.

But he did remember, he remembered that bastard digging his fingers into the staff wound in his leg forcing him to swallow from the foul cup. And his boy, his beautiful boy alive and turning on him, prying for information for the enemy. It wasn't Charlie, not his son. His boy was good - the essence of innocence.

They were getting closer to the audience hall. Jack could hear the crowd, probably assembled to watch the show. 'God, I've got to think.'

But nothing came to mind. Nothing but Apophis and Ba'al_. '_No, not Ba'al. I can't go down that road. I can't let thoughts of his torture and control even enter my mind.'

Walking into the audience hall and up close to Phaeton's throne Jack hummed the Grand March of Aida. Daniel would be so disappointed in him – wrong civilization. If the Asgard would only show up and save him, he'd do a rendition of the Ride of the Valkyries.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Thanks to all the readers and for the ever faithful dpdp.

**Chapter 17**

Once the soft tinkling of the tiny wafer thin golden ornaments across her forehead and the bracelets and anklets charmed and delighted her. They were gifts from her parents to adorn her and to draw attention to her innocence and beauty. Only last week she would sway while walking just to hear their music, delighting in the feel of the gentle movement of her treasures. Now the constant noise every time she moved was beginning to get on her nerves. They had waited around for three days, waited to be acknowledged and had been totally ignored. Totally ignored by those who mattered but leered at by some of the lower ranked nobles and the rabble. And there was that filthy prisoner who looked so openly at her, you would think one such as he would not dare to cast his eye in her direction. The god had glanced in her direction but once and she, in her terror, bowed low to the ground and found that his interest was elsewhere when she looked up.

When she was young, a mere girl, she dreamed as any girl, 'What would it be like to be arrayed in all her mother's finery, all her gold bracelets and jewels? What would it be like to be presented before the great lords and possibly be chosen by one of them?' Now she wanted to strip off her finery and go home. Her father spoke sternly to her last night, she would not embarrass him before their equals and certainly not before the great god Phaeton.

It was a warm day and the aromas of the unwashed, the sacred incense and the costly perfumes she was anointed with swirled around and upset her stomach. The audience chamber was incredibly crowded as the feast day approached. Priests and holy men traveled from throughout the countryside to celebrate the equinox here, and sought a place within the court and royal patronage. In the outer court wrestlers, glistening with oil, strutted about and occasionally gratified the crowd with a bout. Food was sold and pickpockets fleeced the gawkers. But word of the stranger had circulated widely and the curious swelled the already crowded audience hall.

Now the interest of the cohort of Jaffa, priests and philosophers was on this slave. The jingling of her jewelry sent a frisson of anger through her as she turned sharply to see the man dragged before the throne. He was filthy and smelled, he stank of dried blood and the unwashed but not of fear. When he first met her eyes days ago he looked at her with disdain, as did she to him. But he seemed to realize before she did what her predicament was and his look softened to one of concern and perhaps pity. He was just a slave, brought here for the amusement of these heartless men and the god. Was her lot in life far different? She wasn't sure for whom she felt worse the struggling man or herself. He was just a slave and she a mere woman. Would the god find her pleasing; what would he do with her? What did it matter? She was here to secure the future of her family, her father's and brothers' place at court. She did not matter, she was merely currency.

The different factions congregated in groups curious about the stranger who was brought before their god during the auspicious days of the holiest feast. It was the custom that there would be a sacrifice to the god during these holy days. Sometimes it was just someone pulled from the dungeons, occasionally a noble who was exerting too much influence and even once a royal concubine who dared to look to another for comfort. The trouble was one could never be certain who would grace the altar and it was better to point the finger at another before you were the one selected.

One of the holy men stood and bowed low to Phaeton.

"Behold Lord Phaeton, power and divinity made visible."

Then the priest, glanced down at Jack and then away as if the sight of him was offensive, unfurled a scroll and read from the parchment.

" This man has come unbidden to our world.

This man refuses to tell us what he seeks.

This man does not fear the gods or respect their mighty power.

This man is accused of crimes against Lord Phaeton and the citizens of his domain.

Be aware women, it may be that he could be a forerunner of one who would bring war to our shores – slay your husbands and sons in battle, slaughter your children and parents in their beds, scatter your flocks, burn your homes and rape the women and girls and sell them into slavery."

There had been no war for many generations. Weeping and moaning and calls for his death came from the crowds.

Men of wealth, many of whom were not particularly religious, wondered 'Who is this foreigner who would subvert our way of life?'

The priest continued. "Oh you, Philosopher, it is also suspected that he would burn your writings, kill your students, tear down our monuments and homes and obliterate our civilization."

There were loud shouts to give him poison so they could watch him writhe in pain and die.

Jack stared through the crowd and tried to remain detached from the men seeking his death.

"And you priests and holy men and all you who worship our Lord and God Phaeton"

At this all bowed low. Upon rising the lector continued.

"He may have come to destroy all that we worshiped, all that we hold dear. He holds no respect for our gracious Lord and God Phaeton."

The man took a dramatic pause allowed the crowd to consider his dire words. Then he again attracted their attention and continued, this time without reading from the scroll.

"But there is a possibility that he has been sent by Helios to protect his beloved son. His destiny is locked deep within his soul."

"How can we discern what is locked with the heart of any man? Has not the Oracle discerned his purpose?" A nobleman of the crowd asked.

"He will not speak of her revelation and she would never tell another. This truth buried within we may be able to uncover. He has been given the opportunity that we may all discover his fate by the administration of the Blood of the Lord of the Charnel House."

"Do we dare to use the magic of the Egyptians?"

"How can we dare not to if he poses a threat to our way of live or that of our gracious lord."

O'Neill blanched, tension wracking his body as one of the priests came before Phaeton holding a large goblet. He bowed low to the Goa'uld seeking his permission. Phaeton nodded in his direction and the priest turned toward O'Neill with the elixir.

The last words of a song that flitted through Jack's mind were 'Here we go into the wild blue yonder'.

'Strange,' the girl thought, 'the man certainly does not look like this is a chance of a life time, a chance to know what you were born for, what road your feet were meant to trod'.

Jack thrashed and struggled fiercely and even managed to knock back one of his guard. But the other Jaffa and Pythus had him on his knees, arms pinioned behind him as the priest poured the viscous blood-red liquid into his mouth. He struggled in their tight grip and spat, fouling the priest's robes. The Jaffa viciously struck him and Pythus leaned over and whispered in Jack's ear.

"Stop this or surely I will go now and kill your woman. I will take her first and I will not be gentle."

The Jack bucked under the Jaffa tight control and stared with hatred at the First Prime.

His mouth foul with the remnants of the potion, panic started to edge in, to cloud his judgment. O'Neill had to tamp it down, had to keep a clear head. He could feel the tremors of fear deep in his core – not again, not again. He wished he could find a way out or find a weapon, find an ally. He wished he knew how to pray or wished he believed in someone to pray to, someone who cared about him.

And again the cup was forced to his mouth and a large draught poured in. This time a Jaffa held his mouth shut and his chin high. Pythus could see the human reflexively gag, the elixir dribbling from his lips. The First Prime could not blame him, the oily red potion reeked of rot and decay.

O'Neill had not much of a choice, he would have to swallow or drown.

One must have occurred because with minutes he went limp and the Jaffa let him go.

Jack felt the relentless surge of gravity, the pull into the abyss, the endless fall into the darkness. He wanted to call to them, to Teal'c and Carter, to come and save him but didn't dare lest, with him, they be sucked into the well of darkness. But Daniel, where was Daniel?

It was rumored that he would prophesy. The girl could not hear what he said, although many rushed forward to listen. It did not matter to her, her fate was sealed whether as a bride to the god Phaeton or, as had just recently occurred to her, a gift to Helios on that bloody altar.


	18. Chapter 18

"_Has he lost his mind?  
Can he see or is he blind?  
Can he walk at all  
Or if he moves will he fall?_

Is he alive or dead?  
Has he thoughts within his head"

_Iron Man - Black Sabbath_

**Chapter 18**

They all gathered around the man lying gasping for breath, jostling the Jaffa and priests and shouting questions. Phaeton glanced at Pythus, he in turned slammed the butt of his staff weapon on the marble floor and the men regained their composure. O'Neill saw Pythus' golden tattoo burst into flames.

"Who are you?"

After the first question was asked and even though it went unanswered more came fast and furious. Jack struggled to keep his mind a blank but they kept badgering him with questions. Words swirled in his mind, a mind he was rapidly losing control of.

And again the chamber broke out into chaos. The clamor annoyed the god and Pythus realizing this again brought his staff weapon down striking the floor with a resound thud that brought the noise to an immediate halt. Phaeton's eyes flashed golden and the crowd stood back fearful of his wrath.

An elderly priest, dressed in the scarlet robes of a follower of Helios, stepped forward poking O'Neill with his staff. "Are you the one we are awaiting or shall we look for another?"

O'Neill stared at the man and slowly got to his feet. He said nothing but his mind swirled with visions of the past, his former life as husband and father, commander of his elite SG-1, prisoner in Iraq, childhood at the cabin, fighting for his life against Jaffa. Each though blurring into the other, each fleeting, nothing cohesive.

He saw his boy as real as if he stood before him and Jack heart broke. The child was laughing, playing on a grass field. He looked at Jack and smiled. "Dad" he called to him and the vision started to run to Jack. He tried to lift his arms to him but they were too heavy, weighed down with loss and guilt. The vision receded as if someone were dragging the boy away fading into the mist and Jack call out in pain and longing "My son."

"Your beloved father, Helios, speaks through this one." The holy man said.

Another priest stepped forward, this one a toady of Phaeton, asked "What did the oracle say of you?"

Anger swirled in Jack's gut. Every vicious, hateful thing she said replayed in his mind. 'Vicious lying old battle-ax' was what he thought. "Battle-ax" in a loud and strong voice was what they heard.

There was a rumble through the crowd. "He is a weapon!" the priest said. "He is a weapon you, my lord Phaeton, may wield to defeat your enemies."

The words weapons and enemies brought thoughts and visions of combat, of every battle and every victory over Goa'ulds.

O'Neill, his chest heaving as with exertion, proclaimed with a ruthless fierceness, "I killed Ra. I have faced Heru'ur and Apophis in combat."

"A weapon, my Lord, tested and true. And this weapon, a gift from your beloved father, that you may wield to conquer all."

Phaeton smiled. He would have all the others beneath his feet. 'I will rise greater than my father.' he thought.

He stood then, arms outstretched, eyes flashing gold, heady with thoughts of domination, and in the deep resonating voice of the Goa'uld said

"I shall conquer all,

I shall lay waste to those who oppose me,

All life in this galaxy shall bow down before me.

You shall have no god but me."

His words brought the crowds to their feet howling support and screaming his praises.

But the voice of the Goa'uld brought Ba'al face before Jack. He heard him ask who he was and why was he here and what did he want with the woman. He felt powerless unable to move and afraid this was the time he would fail her, this time he would tell. Were was Daniel? He promised he would be here for him, he promised.

Phaeton flicker his fingers toward the Jaffa guarding O'Neill, he descended from his throne and with his gold tipped fingers Phaeton stroked Jack's face and smiled. O'Neill felt as though insects were skittering across his skin.

An old priest walked with the Jaffa as they hauled O'Neill back to his cell.

" You will receive a special blessing tomorrow." the old man said

"He cannot understand you, priest." Pythus said.

"Still, he must be told. Do you not realize your fates are interlinked, Jaffa?"

The old holy man continued to O'Neill "On the holiest of feasts, so that you might properly serve Phaeton, your god, you will be implanted with a mature symbiote. This is the fate of the promised one; this is the power granted to insure you as a worthy and invincibly weapon for our god Phaeton to wield.

On accepting this honor you may be asked to sacrifice your men and perhaps your woman as well at Phaeton's feet. You will obey in all things or you, as well as they, will die and it will not be slow nor painless.

Do not think too highly of yourself, slave. You are merely a tool in the hand of god as are we all. Accept you fate."

All Jack could think was 'Tell Carter. Get them safe. Don't let on to the Jaffa that you care. They will use her.' Tomorrow, he knew he would cease to be, one way or the other but they, his team, were all that mattered. He had to save them. But how could he get close enough to Carter to get across the urgency and the dire consequences without arousing the Jaffa's suspicions.

'Get close to Carter' echoed in his mind, a mind very loosely tethered to reality.


	19. Chapter 19

"_As she steps near me, my blood feels the chance_

___All spinning and swirling, it yearns for the dance"_

_Tim Buckley - Troubadour_

A/N: What is occurring in Jack's addled mind is in _italics_.

What is really said is in **bold**.

**Chapter 19**

The Jaffa deposited Jack roughly at the cell, opened the cell door and allowed him to stagger in. They stood back to watch. Jack looked back at the Jaffa, _the blazing sun on their foreheads so bright, the glare hurt his eyes. The rays of rising sun turned to flames that lick out toward him. _As they were instructed, they observed his every action, waited on his every word. Jonas, Teal'c and Sam looked up anxiously at him. He seems to exude a myriad of emotions – wild eyed one moment, then nervous and anxious, he seemed calm then was on the edge of fury.

He sat next to Carter and stared at her. _He knew they were listening, watching. How could he tell her without them hearing, or if they heard without understanding? How,how,how?_ Jack stared at her face and her breasts.

"**Sir**?" She asked, unnerved by his fixed gaze.

_He sees himself grab an unsuspecting Carter, pulling her along and pushing her to the far side of the cell where they cannot be overheard. But the Jaffa have excellent hearing he needs to obfuscate his actions. So he pushes her down into the shadows and lay on top of her pulling at her clothes. When she objects he slaps her. _

"**Please sir**" Sam tried to bring him back to reality.

"_Please sir, don't do this." he hears. Her voice was thin and plaintive and totally unbelieving of the circumstances she found herself in. Has he had one too many trips though the magic box and knocked a screw loose? Jack holds her down with his weight. He is not that kind of man. He never do that to any woman certainly not Carter. _

Jonas stood confused "**Colonel**?" _O'Neill turns to him with a look of confusion that turns to rage._

_Jack hears Jonas object "Colonel what are you doing?"_

"_Stay the hell out of this."_

"_Don't do this."_

"_Interfere and I'll kill you." His voice low and menacing._

Teal'c, who knew O'Neill better than most, was tensed to pull him away from Sam. But he knows that O'Neill would die before hurting Major Carter and so far all he has done is sit looking with an occasional twitch of his hand. 'Has the Blood of Sokar so altered his mind to change what is most basic in O'Neill?' Teal'c can only wonder.

_Jack had not slammed Sam down to the cell floor, his hand had been cupped not flat when he hit her and his fumbling with her clothing was most ineffectual. He couldn't __hurt her, he could never hurt her. He needs to save her even at the loss of himself._

_Jack put his mouth close to her ear. "Fight back." he said in a harsh whisper._

"**Fight**" Sam heard him say.

"_You bastard." She hissed._

"_Good" he whispered, "Now hit me."_

_He knows she would be confused. She would know that he would never hurt her and as shocked as she would be at this turn of events he hadn't hurt her yet. But Sam Carter had obeying superiors ingrained in her soul and following his order in fact was her first instinct, so she does as he says. She slaps and punches him and tries to kick out but he was so close and with his body weight holding her down it was to no effect. _

"**What's wrong**?" she said to the man sitting there staring only muttering a word or two, hoping a shred of sanity is left to him.

Teal'c said "O'Neill may be experiencing things we cannot perceive."

_Jack heard her angry retort "What's wrong with you?" _

_He grabbed at her hands and whispers "Use your nail and bite too."_

_He drops her hands and attempts to pull off her clothes. He hikes up her skirt and settles himself between her thighs. She struggles under him, pushing and hitting him. _The fact that his addled brain had her clothe as had the Shavadai never fazes him._  
_

_Then Sam rakes her nails across his face and draws blood._

"**Bitch**" he said to her, his face ugly with anger.

Sam felt the sting of tears.

_Jack jerks his head back and rages "You bitch" as he grabs her hands with one of his while opening his belt. Sam attemptsto head butt him but he keeps out of range._

_His first thoughts had been that this was a fool-proof plan, now he questions his sanity but once you set your hand to the wheel... He didn't think he could change horses mid stream. This plan had to be total shit – he was thinking in clichés._

The older Jaffa turned away. The younger, who had never seen a man possessed by the spirits before, would have stayed and watched. The First Prime muttered "Tau'ri scum." turned on his heels and ordered "Jaffa kree."

_Jack turns toward the corridor and shouts, "What, no audience?"_

The First Prime sneered with disgust. He is bored with the nonsensical ravings of the possessed man just sitting on a bench. He wanted to march out leaving the prisoners to their own devices but he was ordered to remain to report to Phaeton if the Tau'ri said anything of importance . But Pythus was hungry and by tomorrow this Tau'ri would be no more, so Pythus went off to his dinner leaving a young Jaffa to hang on O'Neill's every utterance.

"**Look at me**" Jack whispered his lips close to her ear.

"**This is a direct order**." His voice was raspy. "**When you get the chance, the very first chance, get the hell out of here, all of you, don't wait, don't look back and don't stop**."

_Jack saw her face pale yet not terrified, a woman full of fight, seething with anger. This was the person he needs right now. _

"_Look at me" he demands. Jack feels the sting of abandonment, love he cannot have, love he is not worthy of, loneliness wraps tight cords around his heart. It is his fate and he deserves it. If he does anything good in his life it will be to save them._

"_This is a direct order. When you get the chance, the very first chance, get the hell out of here, all of you, don't wait, don't look back and don't stop." _

For a second Sam thought she saw sadness and desperation but it vanished to the steel of a commander. He gave her shoulders a little shake, they were so close they were almost nose to nose. "**Do you understand me – don't stop running til the ramp in the SGC is under your boots**."

"**Yes sir**."

_He gives her shoulders a firm shake, they were so close they were almost nose to nose. "Do you understand me – don't stop running til the ramp in the SGC is under your boots."_

_He feels the trembling Sam Carter underneath him pull herself together. She glares at him and tersely says "Yes sir."_

_Jack then grunts and groans as a man might who was satisfying himself on a somewhat unwilling partner. He rolled off of her pulling down her skirt as he rolls. "I'm done with you. Now go" he snarls at her, his voice loud and laced with contempt._

"**Go**." she heard the sharp command from the man sitting next to her, his eyes staring yet unfocused.

_He made a show of pulling together his clothing which had never really been undone, in case someone had been watching. _ _He knew that she would be embarrassed and hurt and strangely enough felt abandoned by him. But she was the smartest person he knew, no doubt she would figure it out. He had fooled the Jaffa into thinking he held his team in little regard and to be held of no account. But the thought that what he had done was unforgivable rushes in and overwhelms him. How could he have even imagined this was acceptable. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid.' Looking at Carter he feels the aversion she must feel toward him. He feels the panic of having done the most unconscionable, the __most repulsive sin. "Get away, get away from me."_

"**Get away from me**." Sam heard. It sounded as though he were infected with some terrible disease he was afraid might contaminate her. She backed away. With Teal'c's hand on her shoulder she sat between Teal'c and Jonas wanting to help her colonel but unsure of her next logical move. How long would he be in the fog of this awful drug?

If self loathing were an Olympic sport Jack was in contention for a gold medal. He wasn't sure what was real but the guilt he felt over Carter was suffocating him.

He sat head in hands and spent what remained of the night dozing on and off, vivid disturbing dreams while asleep and his racing mind while awake kept his exhausted body from resting for long. The strangest thoughts kept filtering through his mind. _What would Sam be like in bed, that's of course if she'd ever let him touch her again? Had he touched her? Would she be a hell cat or the compliant little soldier or would she give him a lecture on hydraulics? Better yet would he be so old at that point... would he be able to get it up at all. What does it matter - how could she ever love him. What does it matter - he will never leave this place.  
_

_Would they all loathe him, leave him willingly and not turn back? It was his plan but it hurt to think...no, Teal'c would know and maybe Carter would realize later._

_Then, of course, the matter at hand reared it ugly head, would Cooper come through, would they escape before Phaeton put the snake in his head and demand her sacrifice?_


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Pythus and two of his Jaffa came before the dawn the next day. Instead of standing at the door demanding one of them accompany them, they crowded into the cell. Along with the Jaffa were two men in leather aprons, carting a smoking brazier, and two other Jaffa carried a chest. The First Prime jutted his chin toward O'Neill and ordered him forward. The men set the brazier down and using a small bellows caused the coals to glow, the chest was opened, a velvet cloth covered the contents.

"Are you ready?" The First Prime asked the metal workers.

They nodded their assent. The Jaffa uncovered shackles made seemingly of gold, both of them strained to lift them as the links glistened in the flickering light of the brazier. Phaeton was taking no chance that once O'Neill was implanted he would not be able to rise up against him.

"We have some nectar of the poppy." one of the workman offered.

"There is no need." Pythus replied with a cruel sneer. He knew later that day the Tau'ri's suffering would be over and his would begin.

Carter felt the tingle of naquadah, over and above the background hum of this planet. But with Jaffa crowding around she was not sure but no, no, there was no doubt. The gold was alloyed with naquadah.

They forced Jack to his knees. His struggling was to no avail; the lack of sleep and sustenance, the swirl of the last dregs of the drug, the fear that his team will suffer for his intransigence and the strong arms of the Jaffa held him fast. They placed his wrists in the bottom half of the manacle cuffs then snap the halves together. A glowing bolt pulled from the brazier welded the hinged cuffs shut. One cuffed wrist was placed on either side of the brazier as the Jaffa gripped Jack's arms and a strong hand pushing on his shoulder, holding him steady as the raised hammer came down, once twice, three times driving the bolt home. And again on the second wrist the hammer came down on the glowing bolt. She could see Jack biting his lip and then groan, she smelled the singed hair and burnt flesh as the cuffs heat and the hammer pounded the metal until it was joined. His mouth was open in a voiceless scream of agony. As O'Neill collapsed he was grabbed by the Jaffa lest he fall into the live coals.

And who would arrive but one of the servants with their morning meal, easily an hour or more early. The clumsy man tripped and splashed a large cup of water on Jacks arm. You could hear the cuffs sizzle as steam rose from them. Acrid smells filled the room as smoke billowed from the steaming coals. The angry Jaffa reeled on the man, his arm raised to strike a blow.

Cowering he blurted out "I'm sorry sir. I only meant to give the man a drink. Maybe he would remember my kindness later."

It was now obvious to the others that it is Cooper who had disrupted things. He looked at O'Neill as if it is the first time he has really taken note of the man.

"He is filthy!" He spokeas if it were a personal affront to him. "And his clothing - such rags. This is not fitting one who is to be a god, surely not as fitting as his beautiful chains. Shall I procure water to wash him and some clean robes for the ceremony?"

"Filth." The Jaffa muttered to himself as his hand, as if it had a mind of its own, lightly touched the spot over his symbiote pouch and then Sam knew. She is certain of it as if they said it out loud. They are going to implant the colonel with the First Prime's symbiote and Cooper's song and dance are delaying tactics - for the colonel or for her and Teal'c and Jonas. He knew, the colonel knew and he, even while lost in the swirl of drugs, ordered her to save herself and her mind is whirling. Save the colonel or save the team. She wanted options, she wanted to save them all, most of all she wanted a goddamned weapon.

The two Jaffa, accompanying the First Prime, grabbed Jack under his arms bringing him to his feet. The chains trailing from the cuffs are incredible heavy and O'Neill listed under the weight. He tried to get his feet under him as the Jaffa march down the cell block dragging him along.

Cooper faded into the background as the metal workers reclaim their tools and he graciously held the cell door open for them as they maneuver the glowing brazier. When they are down the hall and have exited the cell block, Cooper with his foot in the cell door smiled at SG-1 and said "I have a plan."

All the food, a veritable feast, is distributed to the few remaining prisoners and Cooper led the remains of SG-1 to the kitchens. They are quickly dressed in servants garb with hooded cloaks. The entire time Carter harassed him for weapons.

"Grab those baskets and follow me."

"But the colonel?"

"Follow me. Quickly."

Outside in the predawn gloom there are two pony carts filled with baskets of foodstuffs and a profusion of flowers.

"These are for the shrines and Phaeton's loyal worshipers. We are going to deliver them, one for the shrine by the Oracle and one for the shrine by the Stargate. Phaeton will go today to pay his respects to the prophetess. I know he will bring Colonel O'Neill to ask her blessing."

Carter interrupted him. "That's where we..."

"Please hear me out. We may run into crowds on the road, they will gladly let us pass. And more willingly if you toss handfuls of coins from the sacks under the driver's seat."

"Will this not take us two days travel, even with the assistance of these draft animals?"

"Normally yes Teal'c, but there is a set of rings that will bring us within a click of Mount Parnassus and the Oracles shrine. The ponies hate it so you'll have to hold them steady."

"What about the Colonel?" Carter will not be dissuaded.

"Phaeton makes a big show of his paying his respects to the Oracle and will arrive there at high noon. He'll have a troop of Jaffa and the Colonel in tow. By then you will all be through the Stargate and on your way home."

"Not without the Colonel!"

"Major Carter, if you stay you will only draw attention to yourselves and cause suspicion. I'm afraid it will all go to hell if you remain. The safest thing to do is for you to bring the offerings to the Stargate shrine pretend to arrange the offerings, then when it looks safe open the gate and go through. I will do whatever it takes to bring the Colonel back. I swear to you I will or die trying. But I know I will succeed. I know this sounds crazy but I know. She told me. The old witch told me when I first came to this planet that I would see my home again, that I was need here first."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The Jaffa dragged O'Neill to the baths and would have tossed him in the pool if it weren't for the heavy chains. If he drown their lives would have been complicated if not forfeited. So they placed him by the side of the pool, took a blade and cut off his clothing and gave him over to the ministrations of the slave girls.

"He is to be presented to our lord Phaeton on this most auspicious feast. You will make him clean and dressed in the finest chiton and robe. And be quick about it."

The matron in charge was angry. Was she a worker of miracles? The man was filthy and on his naked body was evidence of recent torture, fresh cuts and bruises. She took pity on the burns on his wrists under the manacles.

She sent one girl for perfumed oils, and two other were assigned to wash him, while she thought where she could find suitable clothing at this late date. She was glad his hair was short but still feared to find lice. The prisons and slave class crawled with vermin, it was well known. Not the slaves at the baths of course. Her girls were clean. They had to be, they serviced most of the noble men who used the baths.

Well the task at hand was intriguing, would this man rise to power? If so she should show him kindness; if not, why bother. He was obviously a warrior - hard muscles rippled under scared skin. Would he be Phaeton's new champion? Right now she thought even she could best him in a match. He could not stand and listed precariously when they tried to sit him on a bench. She thought about shaving him but groomed his beginnings of a beard. Who knew if he would hurt her with the razor or himself?

From the look of the golden chains she wondered what Lord Phaeton thought of him – so strong that he need be bound or so disloyal or both. Why was he bound with such wealth? One link of that chain would buy her freedom and maybe that of her girls. This wealth which would free her from servitude bound him to almost immobility.

She forgot sandals and sent the girl returning with the scented oils for the largest ones she could find. He had big feet.

Men sought out her girls now. Once she was the one all the men asked for. She had grown old and had been placed in charge. But it hurt not to be the desire one. Life was still good, she ruled this small domain and her girls jumped when she gave orders. She feared the future when someone else would take over and she would have to fend for herself in her old age with no family and no friends. To be old and useless and tossed out like yesterdays trash and one gold link, just one link would provide so much.

He was washed and oiled and seemed to finally come somewhat to his senses. They had dared not use the strigil for all his wounds and bruises so a coarse cloth sufficed.

Many items were left at the baths, the matron was amazed what people would walk out without. Among the unclaimed debris one of her clever girls found a spotless chiton of fine weave, a simple broad leather belt and a pair of clasps to pin the chiton at his shoulders. The clasps were in the shape of the gods emblem, the rising sun. They looked good but were cheap with a mere thin gold wash over base metal.

She dabbed an unguent on his wrists and covered them with strips of cloths lest they soil his clothing. And finally the girls strapped on his sandals right as the Jaffa returned and marched him off to his destiny. He thanked them for their kindness.

As they left the matron mused that he was a fine looking man, the short, sleeveless chiton showed off strong arms and legs. A fine looking man indeed and she hoped Fate was kind to him. With every day that passed she had less and less hope for herself.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Sam, Jonas and Teal'c followed Cooper's directions to the rings in a courtyard not more than a quarter-mile from the palace kitchens. At this staging area a few of the participants of the procession were beginning to gather. There were priests, musicians and dancers all arrayed in their finest robes.

Teal'c covered the eyes of the ponies with a cloth and held the halters firmly as the rings transported them to the main road. After the second cart arrived they made their way to Mount Parnassus whose volcanic vents glowed in the predawn. Over the route their main duty was to scatter bread and coins to insure crowds remained with hopes of greater gain when the main procession passed. This also insured that the people's attention was on the gifts rather than on the people doling them out.

When they arrived at the Oracle's shrine they presented flowers and baskets overflowing with bread and fruit to the priestess there. The ancient crone appeared to be asleep, swinging precariously over the crack in the earth. Her eyes opened and she smiled.

"So it begins." she muttered.

After each group passed through the rings the procession got underway with a troop of Jaffa, their armor polished and capes swirling as they marched. Next were maidens who were to scatter bright yellow flower petals before the first of the chariots. A contingent of musicians and dancing-girls performed for the crowd's delight. And holy men chanting prepared the way for the god.

The horses, which were brought here earlier directly from their stable and hitched to the chariots, were two matched sets of white stallions for Phaeton's chariot and a pair of blacks for Jack. The rings and alkesh terrified the skittish horses and quite literally scared the crap out of them, so they were kept a distance from the ring platform. An alkesh hovered and the rings revealed the god, descending from the heavens, to the amazed and adoring crowds. Phaeton basked in the adulation of his subjects as the gleaming chariot with its massive studs were brought to him. The driver, a muscular Jaffa, struggled to keep the powerful beasts under control. Phaeton took his place, standing in the gold leafed carriage. He was arrayed in armor similar to his Jaffa but his was of gleaming gold sparkling in the sun light with a cape of cloth of gold. The next chariot pulled by a pair of black geldings bore Jack O'Neill, freshly bathed and dressed in the style of the nobles of the court with the unusual jewelry of manacles, heavy and glittering. He scanned the crowds lining the path, looking for any sign of his team or of Cooper. He didn't know if it were better to see them free and making their escape or not to catch sight of them hoping they were already gone, through the Stargate and home.

Traces of the Blood of Sokar still flowed through his veins making the scene around him a touch surreal. Occasionally as the sunlight hit just right the crowds shimmered as grotesque faces turned to leered at him. He could feel Death's soft fluttering feathered wings brushed his skin and hear it's song. His mind would skitter from thought to thought, emotion to emotion. And then everything would appear normal again, his vision again in focus and the sounds of the crowds loud, clear and unmuffled.

'My team is safe, my team is safe' he tried to reassure himself desperately grasping on to reality as it slid away yet again. Death crooned to him. It waited with bloody claws, waited to devour him, the sacrifice. Lucid again he knew that song, he heard it on those nights when he remembered his greatest failure, the unforgivable sin.

Behind the chariots walked the priests, philosophers, and assorted sycophants and charlatans of Phaeton's court. Slowly they made their way to the Oracle on this auspicious day, the vernal equinox, as Phaeton's father smiled down upon him. Gold coins flung to the crowds that lined their path were greeted by cheers and shouts of joy.

As they drew close to the Oracle's seat of divination the troop of Jaffa held the accompanying crowd far from the holy ground lest they hear the sacred word spoken to Phaeton. Worse yet, the prophetic words might be ones Phaeton would choose to ignore or, as had happened in the past, be insulting curses. If so he would do as his father before him – break the old hag's neck and toss her down the steaming pit.

Phaeton stepped from his chariot and was greeted by a priest with a golden censer. He passed through the phalanx of Jaffa and stood before the pitiful shrine fingering the offerings on the altar. Most of the priestesses fled at the sight of the heavily armed Jaffa, some drew close to shield the holy mother. Pythus hauled Jack off the chariot to be presented to the priests who anointed him with a vial of sacred oil befitting one who was destined to receive such a sacred reward a gift of the very gods themselves. Pythus then pushed O'Neill past the encircling troops up the hill toward Phaeton and forced him to his knees.

"I am Phaeton, your lord and God. I have a gift for you. And once you have accepted this gift, you will willingly fall at my feet and worship me and fulfill my every demand and desire."

O'Neill said nothing but looked at Phaeton with disgust. Pythus pulled Jack back to his feet then Phaeton, his first prime Pythus and Jack O'Neill approached the old woman perched over the smoking vent. With a dismissive wave of his hand Phaeton sent her remaining handmaidens scattering.

"My lord Phaeton" the old woman greeted him.

"You know why I have come before you?"

She smiled "Yes, my lord."

Phaeton could not tell if the old hag had finally learned her place or was humoring him. "Tell me woman, will this joining be to my advantage?"

"Bring the host to me."

Jack, with Phaeton's firm hand against his spine, was pushed forward.

"Tell me, do you still hear death sing to you at night?"

She continued in a voice so soft only Jack could hear. Not waiting for Jack to answer the bizarre question she said "I know sometimes his song is gentle and soothing and there are nights he howls. Do not listen to his song anymore. Choose life."

Turning toward Phaeton she raised her voice and said "Let me see the spawn."

Phaeton reached in and drew out the wriggling mature symbiote from Pythus' belly and held in up to her sightless eyes. He smiled, an arrogant smile yet tinged with a bit of fear, and said, "Here, mother, will you bless this child."

"Let me hold the little one." she crooned.

Not wishing to get any closer than he had to, yet not wanting to appear the coward, Phaeton held the symbiote out to her. It's red eyes flashing and frill fully flared, it thrashed and hissed . She held out her arthritic claw and said "Come here my pretty."

Jack got a chill down his back and wondered just who or what this woman was. He felt his gut clench, a roil of nausea at the though of what his future held, a future with that snake wrapped around his spinal column, tendrils imbedded in his brain. A life that was nothing but a living death. With his team safe, or so he hoped, his mind raced, he sought escape even if it proved to be a fatal mistake – better off dead, he thought, better off dead.

The Oracle held the Goa'uld symbiote high above her head, threw her head back and was encased in billows of fumes as the fissure glowed. Her muttering, like an incantation, held no meaning for them as her eyes rolled back. Finally staring at Phaeton with milky eyes blazing she thrust the writhing symbiote forward and said "This is the height of your power, this would have served you better than all others, this is you destiny." And with that she tore the screeching snake in two and threw the pieces into the flaming pit.

Enraged Phaeton rushed forward to throttle the old hag and as he did Jack made his move.

Jack grasped the chains and held his hands together and then swung them for all they were worth. The golden cuffs connected with Phaeton's ear sending him crashing to the ground. Jack fell to his knees and raised his fists, chains and cuffs, again and again, slamming and smashing Phaeton's skull, until all that was left was bloody pulp. His symbiote squealed and attempted to wriggle away. Jack, adrenalin still coursing through his bloodstream, turned on it, crushing its head and watched as it's tail slowly twitch, then stilled. Pythus watched in horror as his body weakened, his god dead and his life forfeit.

Her face and tattered rags spattered with gore from Phaeton's demise, the old woman's lips were stretched wide is a maniacal smile.

And to O'Neill she said "And now, my sweet revenge, you must run." And run he did.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Before Jack could take two steps a basket was thrust into his hands into which the chains fell and a cloak was placed around his shoulders. A large bunch of flowers were plopped on top of the basket and Cooper grabbed his arm and said loudly, "No, you fool, these flowers belong at the lower shrine. Can't you do anything right. Come with me I'll show you where they go."

Cooper kept up the act until they cleared the troop of Jaffa who stood with their backs to the Oracle and their faces to the people. The Jaffa were not only attentive to the keeping the crowds at bay but were distracted by the young maidens and lovely dancing-girls. Cooper knew the Jaffa would not approach the Oracle unless summoned and they would remain out of earshot lest they incur the wrath of Phaeton.

Jack was slowing down, the adrenalin rush subsiding and the weight of the manacles depleting his strength. Cooper grabbed him under the arm supporting the colonel. The Jaffa had finally begun to realize what had happened. Their armor clattering as they came barreling down the hillside, firing their staff weapons without regard for whomever was in the way. The panicked crowds scattered, crossing in front of the warriors and causing greater confusion.

As Cooper and O'Neill reached the Stargate plaza a cloaked figure had already dialed the device. Her arm was aimed at the blue puddle as she sent the code. Amid the staff blasts she clutched O'Neill's other arm, greeted him with "Sir, we've got to go." and whisked them through the Stargate.

As their boots and his sandals hit the gate ramp O'Neill asked Ben Cooper what the old woman said to him as they ran off.

"The stars tremble; the gods perish."

Jack turned to Carter to thank her and passed out.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Racing through the Stargate Cooper and Carter grasped the now boneless Jack by the arms and eased his slide to the metal ramp. Azure blue, bright yellow and white flowers tumbled out of the basket and down the ramp as well as his golden chains attached to his outstretched arms. Teal's and Jonas stood aside as the medical team rushed in to assess O'Neill's condition. The adrenalin that had flooded his system during his escape had fled but the sight of the SGC gave him a second wind.

The med techs were glad for the gloved hands and strong stomachs as they maneuvered out of their way the chains which were flecked with the red blood of man and the blue blood of symbiote, bits of brain matter and shards of bone and flower petals. They looked to O'Neill who, as the cloak slid to the ramp, got to his feet with a little assistance. He assured them he was fine and grizzly debris on his chains and arms and their gloves was not from him. He tried in vain to tug down the short chiton but one of the shoulder clasps had been lost in the mad dash to the gate and his scant clothing was in danger of falling off completely instead of just dangling from one shoulder.

The logistics of getting O'Neill to the infirmary were settled by letting him walk behind the stretcher that he rested the heavy chains and his manacled hands on.

When Hammond realized that Jack was, on the whole, safe and sound, he said the one thing that was on most of the smirking airmen's minds.

"Son, your out of uniform."

O'Neill pretended he didn't hear him.

General Hammond debriefed them on the fly as SG-1 accompanied the colonel to the infirmary. Dr. Frasier was appraised as well so she would be aware of his time in the sarcophagus and the possible drugs in O'Neill's system although he kept insisting it was 'all gone now'. Teal'c offered that the trip through the sarcophagus was probably harmless since O'Neill was dead at the time.

"Feeling much better now, you may have noticed." O'Neill couldn't help but add.

Hammond kept SG-1 in the hallway to ask a few questions while the medical staff brought Jack into the infirmary to begin his examination.

* * *

Jack felt like Marley's ghost, the chains were so damned heavy. And if one more person asked him how he was or even looked at him, he was going to tell them to go fuck themselves. Naturally General Hammond walked in and inquired about his well being.

He tried to raise his arms and rattle his chains but could barely clear the table top. "Fine General or at least I will be when I get these fu...damned things off."

In fact Jack, lying uncomfortably in the infirmary bed, looked terrible. The long walk to the infirmary sapped his limited strength. He was pale and gaunt but still slick and reeking from the anointing with sacred oils. At least he had gotten into a pair of scrub pants. He practically begged Dr. Frasier for pants so he could shed that 'ridiculous dress'. The short borrowed chiton was thrown in a heap in the corner along with the soft leather belt and large clasp emblazoned with a golden sun. He tried to sweet talk a nurse into a shirt while Doc Frasier drew blood and listened to his heart but there was no getting around the manacles . A MRI was also out due to the manacles so the ultrasound was used on the back of his neck. The signs of torture, marks of the pain stick, bruises and abrasions, did not go unnoticed by the staff. Nor did his freshly healed back and chest. Janet dabbed at his chest with a towel attempting to remove some of the oil.

"I'm amazed you haven't slid out of that bed yet."

"Funny" He may have sounded sarcastic and acted as though all the fussing was getting on his last nerve but she knew that he appreciated what they did for him. She had a soft spot in her heart for Jack O'Neill and obviously someone else did by the evidence of the bandages she found around his wrists under the cuffs of the manacles. Janet feared his heart may be as tender and raw as the healing skin on his back and chest but without the use of her MRI or CAT Scan treatment would have to wait.

Hammond ordered the chain removed from his officer and retreated from the chaos to the command center to have Walter notify the Tok'ra of SG-1's return. During a regular scheduled communication with them this mission proved to be of great interest to their allies, who requested all the information they would be willing to share. Knowledge of this world had been lost to them.

* * *

Returning to check on the progress to free O'Neill, Hammond surveyed the room. It was crowded with some people trying to help with little success and others brainstorming. A frustrated Major Carter had a bent hack saw in her hand, Doctor Frasier conversed with a nurse preparing salves and bandage for Jack's wrists wondering if they could dislocate his thumbs and slide the manacles off, and Jonas Quinn approached the bedside with a large bowl of ice. Another door opened and Sargent Siler and Teal'c walked in with a plasma torch. The entire room turned to look.

"Is this a good idea?" The question was on everyone's mind but voiced by the good doctor. "Doesn't he has enough burns?"

Carter had a bit of a scowl on her face. "Burns, never mind burns that could sever his..." The expression on O'Neill's face stops her short.

"Well the extreme temperatures..." Again Sam hesitated as she glanced at the colonel.

Jonas came to the rescue "We have ice."

"45,000 degrees Fahrenheit, Jonas, and ice just increases the chance of electrocution."

Felger in the background suggested liquid nitrogen to cool the cuffs but Bill Lee thought Colonel would prefer not to have his hands and lower arms break, fall off and shatter even though that would get the cuffs off.

"We thought we'd try it on the chains first not the cuffs, ma'am." Siler said.

O'Neill looked skeptical, actually a little bit worried. "Doesn't anyone have a drill?"

"Sir?"

"You know Carter, a drill. They put those bolts in; can't you just drill them out?"

"Why didn't I think of that? Even if there is naquadah in the bolts there has to be a greater concentration of gold in order for it to have become molten over the brazier."

Sam turned to the Sargent and said "Sargent Siler get a drill and the best drill bits you have. We may need a few."

Doctor Frasier cleared the room and insisted on respirators and eye protection for those remaining. "I don't want anyone inhaling heavy metal partials."

Upon Siler return with the drill and the equipment Doctor Frasier ordered he said "We'll start with the left one, Sir."

Jack looked at Siler quizzically.

"You know just in case."

"You instill me with great confidence, Sparky."

Jack felt a little less than confident. Jonas snapped his fingers and rushed out of the room. Back in a flash he had strips of packing material that was used to cushion artifact from Daniel's lab. This cushioned the colonel's wrists while a chain mail meat cutting glove from the mess was used to protect the colonel's hand. Jack was feeling a tad more confident that he might have two hands when he was finally free of the manacles.

When everything was prepared - Siler and O'Neill in protective gear, the cuff, and subsequently Jack's arm, clamped to a stone bench the drilling began. It seemed there was a good bit of naquadah in the bolts. Siler bent and even broke his share of bits, one flying directly at his face and if it weren't for the welders mask he would have a nasty scar. Two drill were abandoned their motors ceased and smoking and a third with a diamond bit made the most progress. Doctor Frasier made them stop when the cuffs become too hot for her to bear looking at O'Neill. A chair was pushed under him by Teal'c. He was given ice water to drink. Jonas was smart enough to put in a straw since the man no longer has the energy to lift the glass to his lips. The drill broke through, his left arm released and Jack would have fallen off the chair if Teal'c hadn't moved close to grab the chain sliding off the table threatening to drag O'Neill with it down to the floor.

"Hey Siler, could you put these in my locker when your done."

"For your retirement fund, sir."

Hammond in the background just shook his head.

* * *

Doctor Frasier demanded a break. She tended O'Neill wrist, covered with second degree burns, abrasions and contusions. She wished she could have numbed the pain while they were freeing him but was afraid then he would not have been able to tell them to stop when it was necessary. But he never told them to stop. Looking at the man she was treating, he appeared to have drifted off to sleep, lying on the gurney, dressed in scrub pants and a welders apron, one wrist still held prisoner.

His eyes opened barely a slit.. "Doc, tell them to finish it, will ya."

"Let them get some thing to eat Colonel. Do you want anything?"

"Not unless you want to see it again."

"Get some rest then." She smiled and sat beside the man who gave up the struggle to keep his eyes open.

The right cuff was off in half the time and the colonel was treated to a night in the infirmary. It felt as though his biceps are a big as when he was twenty-five although as sore as if a drill sergeant has had him doing hours of push ups. And thankfully, he had been able to take a shower, a long hot shower and no longer felt like a greased pig or smelled like a whore house.

Dr. Frasier, still worried about the chemical mix he ingested on the planet, prescribed drugs that are just enough to relax him so he could get the necessary bed rest. Pills swallowed, his team safe, Teal'c on guard at the foot of his bed and he was out like a light.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Ben Cooper wandered around the subterranean base. It was so good to be home and yet so odd. The brand spanking new set of BDU's hung on his frame. They were the right size, well the size he worn before...before...he didn't have the right words to describe the past few years. Nothing seemed quite right. And he himself was a swirl of contradictions.

He felt good yet he was scared.

He wanted to retire yet he desperately wanted to continue the fight.

He wanted to crawl under his bed and hide but he needed for his sanity sake to face his fears.

The doc had drained, it seemed, about a quart of blood and subjected him to every test imaginable. Everyone was so nice to him, welcoming him home treating him like a hero...but it felt wrong. He was no hero just ask the rest of SG-11 – no wait you couldn't they were all dead.

And here at the SGC he felt as though he no longer fit in. No longer a part...no longer belonged to this group of men, many of whom he did not know.

He had a short debrief with General Hammond and a daylong one slated for tomorrow. Then what? Who will tell his folks? How were they? Were they still alive?

He was in such a turmoil of emotions since his feet hit the ramp at the SGC when he knew, finally knew he was home.

He wanted to kiss the ground; he wanted to run and hide.

He wanted to cry for his team mates; he wanted to cry for himself.

He guessed that they would make him see a shrink and although the thought unnerved him, it was probably just what he needed.

His wandering brought him past the Infirmary. He peeked in at the Colonel. He was sound asleep with Major Carter's father, the Tok'ra, slumped in a chair beside O'Neill, dozing.

So many airmen and marines, officers as well as enlisted men slapped him on the back or shook his hand welcoming him home. It made him feel good but he hated the rush of emotions – afraid tears would come. He knew what his rescue meant to them - they too might survive if anything happened to them. He was a symbol of hope, a talisman they needed to touch. Didn't they realize all his team mates had been tortured and then slaughtered. His good luck was to survive and become a slave.

He was so tired but afraid to sleep – afraid it would all be a dream.

* * *

It must be morning. The bustling sounds of nurses and the rattling of breakfast trays roused Jack from a deep yet dream filled sleep.

There in a chair to Jack's right sat Jacob Carter. Glancing at the breakfast tray placed on his bedside table Jack asked "Want some cold toast and lukewarm coffee?"

Jacob smiled and replied "As tempting as that sounds I was hoping to catch some breakfast with Sam. She said she'd be ..."

And before he could finish his sentence her blond head peered around the doorway.

"Hi dad. Good morning Colonel."

"Carter."

And there was that bright smile that warmed him to his core.

Beside his breakfast tray Sam placed a mug filled with tops, bottoms, springs and refills and suggested that he get an early start on physiotherapy by reconstructing all the ball point pen that he has mutilated in her lab over the years. Ball points sacrificed to protect delicate instruments and artifact from his playful and inquisitive fingers. He was strangely gratified to know she had saved all the parts.

As Jacob and Sam turned to leave, Jacob lingered a moment to bid Jack farewell since he was due back to his world of galactic espionage. He was very conscious that O'Neill lay in a hospital bed and the rest of the team, especially his daughter, had come back with out a scratch.

"I hope you don't mine, I took care of those burns last night. Not completely...I didn't want Dr. Frasier to feel unappreciated." Without waiting for a response Jacob ducked out and joined Sam.

O'Neill would never have asked for this and probably would have rejected the offer but now there will be no need of skin grafts or an assignment to desk duty, or the possibility of a medical discharge. He now wondered why he didn't realize that he was not in pain. And he wondered if not being forced out of Sam's chain of command was a good or a bad thing. And was that Jacob's intent? Or did Jacob see him as a shield for Sam? Was he over thinking this?

By rights Jack thought he should be irked at Sam for not following a direct order to get her ass back to Earth. But he supposed if he looked at it logically he was incapacitated at that point and she was in command and he should commend her for not leaving her men behind, namely him. If she hadn't been there Cooper and he would've looked like Swiss cheese when or if they got through the gate.

She had saved him. He wondered what Jacob thought of that.

But he couldn't get the thought out of his mind 'Does Jacob want me to be a shield for his daughter?' He was willing because as much as he would like he cannot be anything more. Soldiers like him are a dime a dozen but brilliant minds like Carter's are what will save the Earth. These thought are counter productive – Carter is his subordinate and he has an obligation to her and he will do the bidding of Jacob and protect her - even from himself.

He had to let go of her, of all of them – in fact he did on that planet but she refused to let go of him. It both gratified him as well as terrified him.

Like a letter he folded up his feelings for her and tucked it, hidden away, into a corner of his heart.

He tried his breakfast – the toast was stone cold and the coffee, if you could call it that, was barely lukewarm and weaker that dish water. He pushed the tray table aside and sunk back into the all too thin pillows, sleep tugging at him. Without warning, wisps of memory from the Blood of Sokar fogged his mind. The remembered taste nearly made what little he ate come up. Then...oh Christ, Carter... he hadn't really, had he? No, no it was all an illusion, all the ramblings due to the drug and his desperation. If it were real Jacob would have killed him without a second thought. But Jacob had healed him and Carter had smiled – if they only knew what foulness stained his soul, the degradation his mind had sunk to they would despise him.

He had to think positively. Carter, no his whole team was safe. Ben Cooper, as if risen from the dead, was home and he lay here in the infirmary body healed and soul shredded. He'd duct tape it back together and serve his country and planet and find meaning for his life and hopefully find a measure of happiness.

He thought of Cooper. Jack knew what it felt like to be abandoned with no hope of rescue while knives pierced his chest, stabbing through muscle, heart and lungs, acid burning through arteries and veins. The remnants of the drug swirled through his mind making the memory real.

As the monitors screeched Janet rushed in checking his vitals.

A few deep breaths brought him back to the present exhausted and soaked in perspiration.

"Colonel, Colonel O'Neill" Doctor Frasier called him. His eyes yet a little wild fell on her.

"The drugs aren't completely out of your system yet, Colonel."

'I'm home. I'm healed. My team is safe.' He repeated this mantra until he felt his heart rate calm.

" I'm fine, doc. It's that awfully excuse for coffee."

Janet smiled, that was the Colonel O'Neill she knew.

If nothing else at least he had Janet's face to look forward to when she removed the bandages from his wrists.


	26. Chapter 26

"Too long a sacrificed

Can make a stone of the heart."

W.B. Yeats

**Chapter 26**

As he walked to the mess Jacob mulled things over in his mind. Jacob had suspected for quite a while that his daughter had a soft spot for her commanding officer, as well as he for her. Not exactly what one would call a Chatty Cathy, Anise, when explaining how his daughter was suspected to be a Za'tarc and then proved not to be one, said as much. He remembered this from a conversation with Anise/Freya after the death of Martouf. She also went on about the uptight Tau'ri. Jacob chuckled at Anise's description of O'Neill's surprise and reaction to her advances. He'd asked her if she thought that was perhaps a dangerous thing to do with a suspected Za'tarc but she assured him since she was not the target she felt perfectly comfortable with the prospect of Lo'machen and any way it was Freya. Sometimes hosts were so illogical she said as she stated her preference for Daniel Jackson.

Jacob knew O'Neill and his daughter loved each other but put it aside for the duration. It both pleased and dismayed him. He so wanted everything for his daughter, his golden child. But he knew that O'Neill would die for her. Jacob wished that she would have him live for her as well. Not only did he guide the healing device over O'Neill's wrists but healed the damage the sarcophagus missed – a heart raw and tender.

Jacob looking over a plate of bacon and eggs said to his daughter "You care for him." She gave him the wide-eyed 'I don't know what the hell you're talking' about look. Jacob had the gentle expression of a loving father stating a fact not asking a question.

"Jack" he added unnecessarily.

Sam glanced at her father, looked down at the table then back up. With a lost expression she barely voiced "A lot more than I'm supposed to."

Jacob patted her hand and he left it at that. She was totally surprised to realize he knew and didn't care. No, that wasn't it – he did care – he approved. The man never ceased to amaze her.

But her father didn't know the half of it.

Since coming back from Ka'Risa Sam missed the ever present hum of Naquada, vibrating through her body and soul, it was the background of every thought and action there. The only thing that made her feel that way here on Earth was Jack O'Neill.

In the dark of night thoughts of him, the colonel...Colonel O'Neill...Jack, came unbidden, her heart would swell with emotions she dare not acknowledge in the light of day.

She thought of the man, a man who had courage to stand up to the enemy, courage to protect them, intelligence to lead and plan, modesty to make it look easy or even haphazard.

In the dark of the night it came and fill her heart and thoughts - love for this simple, complex bundle of contradictions, love that couldn't be acknowledge, couldn't be pursued, could never be fulfilled.

In the dark of the night she longed to be held in his arms,

longed for his voice, his touch,

longed for what she knew he couldn't return,

longer for what could never see the light of day,

longed for what she had to tamp down, ignore and refuse.

In the dark of the night she wasn't the scientific genius, theoretical astrophysicist, she was just a human being in an impossible situation – in love with the one man she shouldn't, couldn't have.

In the dark of the night she sometimes cried and sometimes was annoyed at herself for her self-pity.

In the light of the day she slapped on a smile went about her duties and soldiered on.

And now as she walked her dad back to the gate he, strangely enough, seemed so positive about Colonel O'Neill and she felt so pessimistic.

She didn't think it would ever work out – both too stubborn, both too driven, both too honorable or more probably both too stupid to grasp what was right in front of them. And she was just sick and tired of torturing herself.

* * *

O'Neill, finally home, sat on his deck with a glass of ice water in his hand, a regiment of antibiotics and pain killers precluded his favorite beverage. He didn't think he needed any of it but not following the doc's orders have always been a bad move on his part.

The heat of the day dissipated in this late June evening. The sky was clear, a quarter moon on the rise and a promise a full array of stars. He wondered if anyone was looking at the stars here on Earth or anyone on the planets of our galaxy were looking back at him. He waited for full dark to climb to the roof. He didn't want to sleep. His sleep in the infirmary was full of vivid and disturbing dreams. The Blood of Sokar – the gift that kept giving.

Even with Jacob's Tok'ra magic Jack's hands were slightly swollen and he hoped he would be done soon with physiotherapy. He managed to reconstruct most of the ball points from the parts Carter brought him although most of the outer casing color combinations were unusual to say the least. And a few he booby-trapped so that they would fly apart when you clicked them but he though Carter would like that.

He rubbed his wrists. The chains had been removed, the physical ones. The chains of obligation and regulation weighed heavily. The chains of regulation he could remove but... The chains of obligation only winning the war with the Goa'uld could remove. And if he were free - then what?

Carter had a great future ahead of her - smart, brave, loyal and beauti… there were places he shouldn't go. She was almost ready for command and surely some day soon ready to run the SGC's or the government's scientific labs if that's what she wanted. He hate to see her boxed up underground surrounded with boring geeks droning on about...quarks. Maybe if she were working somewhere removed from him they would drift apart and they could both get on with their lives. He didn't want to lose her, not from his team, not from his life. Was he just being selfish or a fool? Maybe both but she had saved his life. Again. And if his miserable life, if it was important to her, precious to her, maybe it should be a little more precious to him.

It was dark now, time to get lost among the stars.

The End


End file.
